League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766
by Flipfrog
Summary: M forms a League made up of frontiersmen, a spy, a courtesan and what! a perfumer to hunt down a ferocious evil in the French countryside; but this villain will not just sit and wait for the League to come.
1. Chapter 1

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 1**

The girl shivered in her red cloak as she made her way through the forest twilight, her picnic basket empty. It wasn't the cold that rattled her, it was the brooding sense of menace the trees took on. It was rather late to be returning from a visit to a relative, she realised as she tightened the hood of her cloak.

She stopped when she noticed a figure standing on the hilltop wearing colored robes; he raised his arms as if he was conducting the weather, there were a few flashes of lightning about him. She recognised him as Joseph Curwen, a creepy American who came to this French countryside with a sinister demeanor. He yelled out names to the sky as if calling to grey clouds. The utterrings didn't make sense in French or English, the only words she could make out were "Yog Sothoth"

"Yog Sothoth" he repeated until he looked down and saw her.

His face became cold and cruel, he signalled with his left arm to the hillside behind him. That which appeared beside him was the biggest wolf she had ever seen. She had seen wolves before, even been up close to one on several occasions but this was so monstrous that the very sight froze her in her tracks.

The man pointed his finger at her with an obvious command for the beast. The wolf ran towards her. She wanted to run or climb a tree but the shock and fear paralysed her. The beast was nearly as big as a cow, its eyes were demonic red, its fur coal black and its paws gave a loud thud with each step. The jaws salivated heavily as the beast approached the girl, who could only utter in her head a line she said once before.

"My what big teeth you have"

When the beast closed on her and the pain started, she managed a loud scream.

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 2**

Gustavus with his acute hearing heard the scream, quickly focusing his gifted sense he also heard the beast's savage growl. The three other servants Albrecht, Berthold and Adolphus had not stirred, they did not have his hearing; nor did the Baron, who was now releasing one of his carrier pigeons.

"Baron, its happening again, right now. This time it is a young girl" yelled Gustavus.

Baron Karl Friedrich Munchausen was tall, graceful and resplendant in his red German military coat. The hair, without his usual wig was brown with a touch of grey and with a ribbon tied plat at the back, letting the style frame a face of aristocratic charm and a long moustache finely twirled at both ends.

"Adolphus can you see it?" He asked

Gustavus pointed to where he was hearing the atrocity. Adolphus focused his keen eyesight to that area then shook his bespectacled head.

" I'm sorry, hills and trees are in the way, but I do see localised lightning there." he reported.

The others didn't need the gifted eyesight to catch a glimmer of the lightning.

"We should go there now." said Albrecht. "And finish this beast off once and for all." he concluded while crushing a brick in his hands.

Berthold got up as if to start his super fast sprint to the dreadful site.

"Hold Berthold, stay put. " Commanded the Baron." You may get there fast enough to catch The Beast at his grisly work but you would then be alone against it and the evil that sponsors this atrocity; and I would then be short one valuable companion. It is too late to save the girl anyway."

Berthold sat down, while Albrecht paced back and forth impatiently.

"It is but a wolf, it is virtually in our back yard so why are we standing down?" he questioned.

The Baron stood atop his temporery leased premises, the Chateau de Lune; made a quick calculation of the space between the roof and the courtyard; then, with a confident grin, stepped off the roof into thin air. The downward trajectory sent him into a diagonal window awning that bounced him in a parabolic arc into another such awning which, with a controlled twist of his body, propelled him to the flagpole; grabbing the flag rope his downward velocity was suddenly counter balanced by the raising weighty flag. The debonair aristocrat landed gracefully on his feet and put on his soldier's hat. Atop the pole fluttered the flag of the Moon kingdom.

"It's not that we cannot deal with a wolf." said The Baron. "After all did I not personally turn a wolf inside out during my adventures? The wolf is but a servant of a more potent evil, an evil that has a concerning command of the elements and dark horrors that even I don't understand. Us Germans are known for our patience and we must practice it now."

"On the following morning" he continued. "The other members of this team I am putting together should arrive. Only then should we proceed against The Beast and the evil it serves."

Berthold stood up eager to help in this gathering. "Where are these team members to be found?" he asked.

"One is in Grasse, practicing the fine art of perfuming, you four shall fetch him here. Two others will be arriving at Marseilles in the morning, I have chartered a coach for them. Another is in Dijon, she will get my summons at the same time. The last one is in Calais; where you Berthold must go and bring him here after your done in Grasse."

The Baron sipped a fine glass of tokay brought to him on silver tray by a valet, then said "When they all converge here at Gevaudan then we hunt The Beast."

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 3**

The cauldron heated over the discreet night fire, its contents simmered lightly. Water bubbled to the surface which revealed a lot of loose plum matter, rose petals and other herbal mixtures. Vapours rose from the pot to get absorbed by the dried animal fats that were tactfully suspended over cauldron.

The stirrer and preparer of this concoction was Jean Baptiste Grenouille, he was in his late twenties and looked around him vigilantly for any unwelcome presence, that is anyone.

His aim was to achieve a brilliant method of scent extraction; the solid contents of the cauldron being the subject.

This process merged two methods of extraction; enfleurage, which he was adopting as the best way, and maceration which he was abandoning as flawed. Enfleurage required the animal fats to absorb the scent while maceration was to separate the scent from its source through distillation.

This was his own time his own private experiment of which he would tell nobody and that went for all his many nocturnal experiments.

"Hello"

The startled perfumer jumped in shock at the sudden intruder, his vigilance never wavered but somehow this person got under his defences. The flash presence was a German about middle age.

Jean returned a awkward greeting while quickly arranging the cauldron surface into an opaque layer.

"You are Jean Baptiste Grenouille" Asked the German.

"I am" Replied Jean. " How come I did not see you approach?"

"My name is Berthold." said the German. "And I am very fast."

Jean noticed Berthold disappear and reappear in a place ten metres away, then disappear again and reappear one hundred metres away; in the next instant the visitor was standing beside him. Jean noticed the trail of kicked up dirt and realised this individual has superhuman speed; his scent was one of sweat, tokay, crossants and German sausage.

The nervous perfumer shifted himself around Berthold to keep his attention away from the pot.

"Can I help you?" Asked Jean.

"Exactly." answered Berthold. "You have been requested and now summonned by M to aid him in a mission of great importance."

"M." Jean said, baffled. "Who's M?"

"I refer to none other than the great Baron Munchausen; he is in Gevaudan and wants you there amongst other gifted people to help him."

"Gevaudan" said Jean. "This is about the Beast of Gevaudan, he wants me to help him hunt it down?"

"Yes Herr Grenouille. Can he count on your support?"

"I can scent a wolf a mile away. But it is a long way from Grasse to Gevaudan."

Berthold smiled at the young man's apparent co-operation and said. "A coach will pick you up at the main gates about noon tomorrow. I will tell my colleagues to expect you; but after that I will be off to Calais. So we should see each other again at Gevaudan?"

Jean nodded acceptance then noticed Berthold shifting his attention to the cauldron. Quickly stepping to the edge of the pot he darted his fingers into the surface creating ripples that blurred all transparency, then rearranged the plum matter into an opaque layer.

"Making soup?" The German asked.

"No No." answered Jean nervously. "It's perfume. A plum based perfume."

Berthold placed his head near the surface and sniffed the vapours. His response was one badly hid revulsion..

"Perhaps your masterpiece will come another day." he said tactfully.

Berthold reminded Jean of the coach, said his goodbye then sped off to his next stop leaving a trail off soil dust in his wake.

The nervous perfumer breathed a sigh of relief when he regained his precious solitude. Jean would consider this experiment a failure and concentrate his efforts on pure enfleurage, for which he will bring the materials and apparatus on this mission for M.

After putting out the fire, Jean began emptying the cauldron so he could clean it out and prepare for his trip. The visitors appraisal of the experiment's results was accurate and it was good that he did not grope in the water for the ingredients, for beneath the surface of the pot was the naked body of a murdered woman.

Jean Baptiste Grenouille was trying to perfect the extraction of exact scent from living organisms, usually human woman; unfortunately this required him to kill them first, then extract the scent before it died with the subject.

"M doesn't know." Grenouille whispered to himself. "But he was sending a killer against another killer."

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 4**

The docks of Marseilles were a welcome sight to the Trans-Atlantic voyagers, they had spent days seasick and homesick. Replacing the stability of the New York and Delaware forests for the wobbly and chaotic ride on an ocean ship sent their bodies and minds into a ferocious culture shock that did not subside for days until they got their sea legs.

Natty Bumpo was out of his element here on the ship's deck, only the seagulls made sense to him; he hopes once he gets into the French forests that a measure of his affinities with nature would return.

"It's time to disembark." he said rousing his companion to awareness.

Chingachook was a tall, advanced middle aged yet agile Indian of the Mohican tribe; he had coped with the crossing by spending most of his time meditating, even though he was far from his spiritual homeland. Luggage included muskets that were covered in tanned skins for the trip.

"This is best news Hawkeye give me all voyage." he said.

Natty was given the name Hawkeye by a Huron brave he killed when he was twenty-three, the name stuck. The two grabbed their things and headed for the gangplank.

Captain Caproni approached them for his farewell.

"Goodbye to the both of you. I trust you will find Europe as strange as we Europeans found America." He gave a captain's salute. "I salute fellow explorers of the bewildering." Then promptly returned to supervising offloading of cargo.

Caproni had often spoke of exploration especially down in the relatively uncharted seas way down south.

The gangplank was wobbly but soon came the sweet stability of the docks then soon dry ground. The bayside of Marseilles was picturesque with the familiar sounds of horse drawn carts and wagons, seagulls and occasional people. Waves gently lapping against the sandy beaches, little boats with coloured sails, children on the shore collecting shells, and artists wearing horizontal striped tops and berets trying to capture this tranquil vision on their canvases.

"I bet you two are glad the trip's over." Said a young Frenchman in crude English.

"That we are." said Hawkeye "The sailing part anyway; we're not at our destination yet."

"My name is Candide." Said the Frenchman. "I am to take you two to the coach that will carry you to Gevaudon; but first let's take a sojourn at one these many cafes on the beachfront."

Hawkeye and Chingachook joined Candide at a nice cafe where they indulged in French pastry, coffee, cake and conversation. The two trappers demonstrated a rough capability with the French language saying they picked it up during the recent French Indian War. Candide noticed their wrapped muskets and asked if they were going to hunt in what was foreign land to them with the same confidence that they would have at home. The answer he got was a supposed Yes.

"Confidence can be very misplaced thing, especially for travellers. I travelled when I was young and full of confidence; I went to Portugal; my sense of wonder soon became fear and pain when I was caught in the Lisbon earthquake of 1755. After having buildings collapse on top of me I was left crippled and in great pain with fires around me and a maid trying to comfort me with words of confidence. So what happens then? A tidal wave engulfs the city and nearly drowns me after hurling my pain racked body several hundred yards.

"So my fellow travellers watch yourselves, it doesn't always work out as you expect." he finished.

Taken aback by this tale of woe the two trappers finished their repast and sat immobilised.

"My confidence didn't die in Lisbon." Said Candide. "After a painful recovery it was henceforth kept in check, as yours should in your hunt."

Candide paid the tab then ushered Hawkeye and Chingachook of to their coach. It was an open cab; no roof, cushioned seats, a hamper of food and a driver who gave a cheery welcome.

"This should get you to Gevaudan by tomorrow morning, there will be one stop at Lyons where you can stay for an hour. So it is goodbye my friends and give my regards to the Baron." Candide waved as the coach began its journey.

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 5**

Juliette looked over the city of Dijon from her bedroom window, half dressed and relaxed after a night and morning of vigorous sensual activity with her current lover Fanfan La Tulip, the hero of the Seven Years War. The blackberry wine she sipped was sweet along with the local gingerbread, mustard and Fanfan; he was half conscious and swooning on the bed in pleasant memories of the last few hours activity; he didn't notice the pigeon flutter on to the window cell.

Taking the bird in her arms, Juliette picked out the message in its leg cylinder and read.

The message was from M, it was a summons. The League was forming in Gevaudan and she must get herself to the Chateau de Lune at once.

Being part of the League was rather odd for her, she didn't really care if any mission they performed succeeded or not, it's just that for a few days in her carefree life she would give the illusion that she would be a dutiful contributor to a group effort. Although she had her personal fortune and powerful lovers in society to secure her wild carefree life, she felt it wise to keep M's favour.

A fresh look over the city gave Juliette a view of imminent danger; seven figures moving along the street towards her parlour. These seven were a group of international assassins known as The Seven Virtues; Patience, Humility, Chastity, Kindness, Charity, Diligence and Temperance. Not doubting for a minute that they were after her, Juliette roused Fanfan La Tulip awake then told him to quickly get dressed and prepare for a fight.

"Who sent them Mademoiselle?" he asked.

"Not sure lover." She answered, though she did consider a few possibilities in her head as she packed a quick portmanteau.

A few hailed commands outside her door brought her valet's prompt arrival; telling him to take the portmanteau and prepare the coach for immediate departure; he hurried off. Fanfan completed dressing the same time as her, he was a slim, agile and handsome; when he took his sword out of its scabbard, he demonstrated a graceful use of it as he grinned.

The two left the room and rushed down the stairs. It was when they approached the open door that the noticed the seven virtues were almost at the doorstep. Juliette quickly closed and bolted the door, then rushed past Fanfan asking him to hold them in the hallway while she slips out the back, he gave her a brief kiss goodbye. The seven visitors began to pound the door.

Juliette decided against exit through the back door or any window, the assassins would think of that and cover those escapes, no she would use a secret exit. She could hear the front door give under the constant assaults followed by the clash of steel. Fanfan was holding his ground.

She stepped into a broom closet, closed the door behind her and, after shoving the brooms aside, pulled a lever that opened a wall panel. Taking a step forward she plunged into pile of hay; this was the neighbours stables; the secret panel was good for a roll in the hay with their son. A spring mechanism closed the panel behind her.

It was good that no-one was here now, she had to move fast, no time for explanations. She made for the stable door, certain her coach would be just outside ready to go. One of the assassins appeared in her path, he saw her, brandished his hunting knife and moved in on her. He did not call out; no, he wanted to bag her himself.

Juliette reached into her sleeve and pulled out a rope pre-tied into a noose, she then placed it over her own neck while making some overtly seductive movements. The assassin was known as Humility and he was taken aback not so much by the seductive posturing but by apparent invitation to strangle her to death. He was on her now just a couple of stabs and his duty will be fulfilled; but if she wants to die this way so be it.

Placing the knife in his mouth he grasped the noose and began to slowly tighten it around her throat. She responded with moans of pleasure then lifted her dress up and pressed herself against his body while gyrating her torso in rhythmic thrusts; her hands then both worked on several of his erogenous zones at once.

Humility, unbalanced by this sensation fell into a pile of hay, but quickly shifted himself so that he was on top of Juliette. She didn't seem to mind and she clung to him to maintain her erotic attentions. Remembering his duty he tightened the noose more, her response was a highly intense moan of pleasure with a rewarding smile that lifted with her head to bring her moist lips invitingly to his. Feeling heightened joy from her lascivious touches, he let the knife drop out of his mouth and kissed her while keeping a hand on the noose he used his other arm to embrace her. She had one arm around him pressing his head to hers and making the kiss so passionate that it would be the centre of the universe for him and it was, he became so lost in the heat of the moment that it took a knife entering his chest to snap him out of it.

Juliette grabbed the discarded knife during the distracting kiss and with her free hand stabbed it in between his ribs. Humility gasped in pain breaking off the kiss, Juliette immediately re-initiated the kiss while maintaining the erotic gyrating; she plunged the knife deeper towards his heart. Humility, realising the trap, tried to tightened the noose with all his remaining strength while in this erotic grip. Unable to breathe, Juliette felt her faculties leave her, the painful asphyxiation nearly took her to a new world of potent feeling, but then she felt the assassins life end in her embrace, the knife had hit home.

The noose loosened with the little effort she had left to impart. After waiting a minute to get her breathe back she pushed aside the dead body of the partner whose life she drained then awkwardly got to her feet. She stumbled out into the street suffering extreme dizziness and blurred vision. The Valet found her and led her to the coach, the portmanteau was secured and the coachman was ready.

"Where to Mademoiselle?" he asked.

"West." She answered, then got on board.

The coach took off unimpeded and she was safe for a while. This new sensation of doing it while close to death was awesome. She would have to experiment with this.

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 6**

The Throttled Hog tavern in Lyons was a rough place to be, it was mainly patronised by barge hands and factory workers drinking ale and the occasional wine. Redmond Barry and his two Prussian colleagues had done their best to blend in; they did not have to be here long, but they felt it best that Redmond do all the talking. The Seven Years War was only three years gone and Prussian accents may draw hostility, whereas the Irish tongue would not.

Redmond's path to this point was odd for an Irish rogue: fled his genteel home in Ireland after a duel; joined the British army so he could eat, deserted after his first battle in Europe; forced to serve in the Prussian army for the remainder of the war; then recruited into the secret service. After an unhappy time spying on foreigners in Berlin he is given a search and destroy mission in France.

There were many deserters from the Prussian military forces, Redmond tried several times to be one, but one case drew intense concern from the army and police. The case was that of Fernand Wagner, a soldier who committed several gory murders before and after his desertion. The case-file ended up on the desk of the police service Redmond worked for. A continental manhunt had yielded one clue from a tipster in Lyons.

Realising that any Prussian making enquiries in France could alert the target to his pursuers, the service would send this Irishman to do all the talking. So Redmond Barry is dispatched to France to receive the tipster's update and hunt down Fernand Wagner from there. The two Prussian agents were Fritz and Karl; the mission was theirs' also but, although Redmond wasn't informed, he knew they had orders to prevent him deserting. So Redmond Barry found himself in the Throttled Hog, a lowly tavern in Lyons.

Hawkeye and Chingachook entered the tavern; their coach had stopped for a rest and this joint had the closest resemblance to what they had in America. The frontiersman managed to buy two ales then sit down at a small table with his friend. The other patrons gave a muted interest at both the coonskin hat worn by Hawkeye and the wild features of the Indian.

Redmond Barry took a keen interest in the newcomers but refrained from meeting them as he had to maintain a low profile. A fresh voice at the bar caught the attention of Fritz who then indicated to Redmond that their tipster has shown up. The Irish rogue approached a suitably wide gap in the bar patrons and ordered three fresh ales from the tipster.

"The dew in the meadows is mild this time of year Rene." he said in well rehearsed French.

"The rain in Spain is heavy." replied the Publican while serving the three ales and looking around to be sure of reasonable privacy.

"The man you are seeking, Herr Wagner is in Gevaudan. I do not know exactly where he lives but that is where you will find him." He whispered.

Redmond showed the informer a drawn ID picture of Fernand Wagner then received a confirmation that he was their man. After paying the tipster Redmond returned to his table with the three ales and told Fritz and Karl of the update. It was decided to finish their drinks then depart for Gevaudan.

Three men entered the tavern, they positioned themselves next to the wall under a stuffed boar's head; making no initiative to procure drinks, all three kept a mean focus on Hawkeye and Chingachook. Redmond noticed the three made eye contact with two similarly attired men who appeared at the side entrance with muskets and another two who stood at the main door also with muskets; the latter two repositioned themselves near his table but maintained their focus on the two Americans.

Chingachook whispered to his friend " We have seven prowling wolves about to pounce on us."

Hawkeye noted the danger and promptly whispered his plans.

Redmond heard the musket men ready their firearms. The three men by the wall approached the table, one presented himself in front of the two trappers while the other two stayed behind them and reached to their scabbards.

"Well what do we have here?" he said loudly. "The two filthy savages who fought alongside the British at Fort William Henry. How dare you even think you are welcome here in France."

Silence reigned over the tavern, but only for an instant. Hawkeye let out a punch that sent the troublemaker flying into a nearby table occupied by workers. Chingachook spun out of his seat and grabbed the knife arm of the attacker behind him; with a strong jerk and swift move placed the man between him and the muskets. Although both guns levelled at the Indian only one fired, killing the comrade Chingachook placed in its line of fire.

Hawkeye wheeled around evading the stab from the other attacker, grabbing his arm and disarming him by smashing his hand against the table edge, then with good strength positioned him before the muskets at the side entrance being aimed his way. Neither firearm fired but the bearers had murder in their eyes; a tomahawk deftly thrown by Chingachook buried itself in one of their foreheads, the man dropped instantly, his associate convulsed in shock, he would be out of the fight for a few seconds. Hawkeye slammed a fist into his current antagonist's belly, the lifted the limp and hurting wretch up and hurled him over the bar into the shelves.

The musket man who fired and killed his friend drew a rapier and moved on Chingachook, who had just flung away his tomahawk. The other musketeer levelled his firearm at the unshielded Hawkeye; Redmond Barry, forgetting the need to keep a low profile, pushed the barrel of the firearm to the left, sending the deadly shot into the back of the man with the rapier. Furious, the gunman drew a knife and stabbed at the Irish Rogue. Redmond stopped the blade inches from his face and wrestled to keep it from connecting.

Hawkeye's first attacker got up from the collapsed table, drew his knife and approached the frontiersman who promptly drew his skinning blade from his boot and engaged. The first few stab attacks were easily blocked by forearm to forearm contact, then some desperate swipes were dodged by Hawkeye who managed do deliver some minor wounds to his opponent. A light stumble by backing into a loose chair rendered the scout apparently vulnerable for a moment, which the attacker seized with a strong lunge; Hawkeye swiftly bent his body like a reed in the wind, avoiding the blade, and with an agile twist ran his own blade into the back of his outstretched opponent.

The knife near Redmond Barry's face lost its force when Karl wrapped a garroting wire around the wielder's neck; he could've finished him off, but Fritz knocked the ruffian out with a blackjack. The Irishman was out of danger, but saw his Prussian colleague's disapproval at his involvement in this fight. Redmond grabbed the pistol hidden in Fritz's belt.

A piercing war cry filled the tavern as Chingachook lifted his large axe like weapon and prepared to throw it. The patrons realising what was going to happen all ducked under the tables. The last musket man had recovered his faculties and prepared to shoot at the Indian, then suddenly losing his nerve under the war cry, slipped out the side doorway he was positioned at. The throwing axe whirled through the tavern, narrowly missing its fleeing mark and flying out the door into a tree beyond.

When the shrill war cry abated Hawkeye went to thank the young man who aided in his plight only to find him pointing a pistol virtually at him; he ducked for cover as fast as he could. The pistol fired sending its shot into the head of Hawkeye's former antagonist, who after being hurled behind the bar, arose with a pistol to shoot his foe in the back.

Redmond Barry only stayed briefly to shake hands with Hawkeye and Chingachook and receive their thanks, he promptly excused himself and his two partners, who said nothing, then departed leaving the two trappers to explain the incident to the authorities.

The inquiry was prompt and the other patrons backed up the American's viewpoint. The only clue to the attackers identity was that each one carried a wolfskin in a pack. The authorities realised that this was a murder attempt by a notorious wolf cult which was menacing this area of France.

When all was said and done, the two trappers resumed their coach ride to Gevaudan, it was clear to them that M's enemies were on the ball.

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlmen 1766 Chapter 7**

The coach sped down the road from Grasse to Gevaudan. Jean Baptiste Grenouille was enjoying the ride despite usually travelling by foot. The fellow passengers were friends of Berthold; there was Adolphus with his spectacles and scoped musket, there was also Gustavus with acute hearing and Albrecht driving the coach; they all made him feel welcome, which was unusual as he had rarely felt welcome in other company throughout his life.

They had arrived at noon as Berthold had said, then immediately tested him by having him identify certain objects in Hessian bags; he could easily isolate the scent of oranges, tobacco and coffee beans. Albrecht placed his luggage on the back of the coach, lifting it with just two fingers, and taking his place at the driver's seat. The coach was mahogany, upholstered inside with crimson velvet. The three Germans spoke good French while talking jovially of Baron Munchausen and the Chateau de Lune.

Jean's characteristic reserve eventually gave way to a fraternal rapport with these adventurers, bidding them to sample some of the perfumes he had made, he carried several bottles on his person. Adolphus and Gustavus reacted like they were in Paradise when they smelled the concoctions; Albrecht also had a go when Jean reached the bottles out the window to the driver, the fine scent dissipated to quickly in the open breeze, but he got a big enough sniff to forget the smell of the horses.

Since the breeze went from North-West to South-East Jean could pick up scents from ahead without being distorted by the smell of the horses. Adolphus focused his vision to the road ahead and bid Jean to tell what is two miles up on the side of the road. Jean could smell several things in the light breeze; grass, leaves, dirt, but managed to isolate the odour that was two miles ahead and getting closer.

"Honeysuckle trees." he said.

In a few minutes the coach passed a copse of honeysuckle trees. The Germans applauded, even Albrecht, who could only just hear what was going on.

Gustavus honed his hearing to a specific sound ahead, then bid Jean to tell what was near the road ahead. Jean did not have Gustavus's hearing but amidst the scents being carried to him in the breeze was the dominant scent of sheep plus a couple of secondary odours.

"Lot's of sheep being herded by Dutch sheepdogs and there are some daffodils to." he answered.

Sure enough as the coach travelled over the hill there was a flock of sheep bleating as they were being herded by Dutch sheep dogs. A flower bed of daffodils were growing in a neighbouring field. The Germans were ecstatic with admiration for this gifted perfumer; it was clear why M wanted him in the League.

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 8**

The waters of the river Loire were fresh and invigorating; for Juliette they were a natural Paradise where she could swim naked, much like Adam and Eve did in the Garden of Eden. To complete the Eden similarity she coaxed a young man into the water with her, he was Jean Villeneave, an infantry officer. Together they engaged in a few erotic activities, in and out of the water.

She still thought of Fanfan La Tulip, but he was several hours ago and many miles east in Dijon, possibly even killed while giving her a chance to escape those assassins. He was a good swordsman, so she believed he would be waiting for her return and more loveplay.

As to who commissioned The Seven Virtues to kill her, kept her thinking; she had several powerful enemies: Catherine the Great, who disliked Juliette helping herself to her courtroom favourites; The Pope, who would've labelled her lifestyle sinful; or maybe one of several aristocrats who became furious when they could not possess her, at least not for very long. Whoever it was, they would have to wait, Juliette was out of The Virtues' reach now.

The two swimmers finished their aquatic and riverside activities, dried each other with towels then re-adorned themselves. Jean Villeneave put on his officer's uniform then excused himself with a passionate goodbye kiss. Although this particular riverbank was private there was a designated picnic area just two hundred meters around the bend; that's where her coach was waiting. She would take her towel bag back there and then proceed to Gevaudan.

Striped umbrellas and frilly parasols adorned the picnic ground at Nevers; men, women and children sat on white chairs around white tables sipping coffee and chatting. This crowd included English tourists. Those who actually swam in the river wore awkward bathing apparel that covered eighty percent of their bodies; only the little boys stripped to the waist before they plunged in.

"Juliette." Said a voice behind her.

Turning around, Juliette saw a middle aged Englishwomen standing near her, she wore a white silken dress that reached up to her neck and a wide crafted hat with fake fruit pinned to it.

"You are Juliette de Lorsange aren't you?" She asked in French with a high class English accent.

"Why yes." She answered. "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

A quick and sudden slap hit Juliette's face, she was shocked but recovered in time to avoid the return backhand from the Englishwoman.

"Pamela Andrews B." she answered. "I want to tell you what a loathsome, disgusting harlot you are. When I hear about your filthy vices you practice everyday it makes me sick."

Juliette did not want to listen to this rant, taking advantage of her loose dress, she sent a kick; it would have been good to aim for the mouth, but the English stomach received the force, taking her breathe away along with her bitter words. Pamela moved close and seized a handful of Juliette's hair and pulled, she would have ripped it out of the scalp after two or three efforts had not a left hand punch from its owner impacted on her nose; letting go of the hair she tended her bleeding snout. The Englishwoman's fingers became claws, Juliette grasped each hand with her own hands then the two antagonists wrestled for some advantage. The picnic crowd noticed the fight, especially when a mutual imbalance sent the two women rolling over each other down a hill. Juliette managed a bite on her antagonists ear during the roll. A claw from Pamela dug into The Frenchwoman's face, Juliette made a move for the fruity hat that stayed on her attacker's head, took what she was looking for and stabbed the hatpin into the clawing arm. Pamela shrieked in pain and pushed Juliette away from her..

"Emile." Said Jean Villeneave signaling a fellow Frenchman to restrain Juliette.

The infantry officer was among the picnic crowd and moved to restrain Pamela; despite a gentleman like manner, Juliette could see that he hated the Englishwoman, not because she fought with his recent squeeze, it's just that he really hated British. He was in no hurry to help her extract the hatpin or tend to her bleeding nose and ear.

Emile was quite rough in his restraint of Juliette, when she looked in his face she could see a bitterness derived form a sense of betrayal by a women close to him; either that or his education didn't teach him to understand what crap women have to go through. Pamela's look was one of sheer murder.

Pamela Andrews had to put up with a lot of bitter scrutiny, gossip and harassment before and after she made the odd move of marrying her rich employer, yet she forgave a lot of her tormentors and went on to live a happy life. There will be no forgiving Juliette, she will pay for her vice ridden life and the injuries she inflicted today.

Emile escorted Juliette with her towel bag to her coach. An adolescent boy was seen talking to her coachman, he left as the lady approached. When she got in Juliette asked Emile who the boy was.

"That Madam was Mrs B's son." He replied. "Goodbye."

As the coach departed Juliette thought of what a return slap in the face she could deliver to Pamela Andrews B by personally introducing her son to joyful vice, but that would have to wait. M was expecting her.

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 9**

The coach sped through the night which bore a moon that was almost there but not yet full. Up on the surrounding hills the trees and rocks stood motionless in their ominous shapes like an audience waiting for the final act in a suspense play.

Adolphus and Gustavus had fallen asleep after a joyful day of testing Jean's impressive sense of smell; Albrecht remained strong in his wakefulness as he was in his muscles, he continued to drive the coach, resting occasionally for the horses sake , not his own.

" We will stop in Lozeres for the night." He said. "The Baron doesn't expect you till the morning."

Jean inquired how far Lozeres was and was told not far. Adolphus and Gustavus woke into a slight consciousness at this conversation; Jean reckoned they would be back to sleep very soon, but a sudden look of concern broke the latter's face. The perfumer began to smell what Gustavus obviously heard. On the knoll ahead of the coach Jean could sense a man and something akin to a wolf. The wolf scent was coupled with potent elements that were foul and never before smelt, no perfumer would ever want to.

Burning sulphur suddenly overlapped all smells as if it was spontaneously called into existence. The coach veered right as Albrecht was steering it to avoid something. Jean sensed the burning sulphur get stronger very fast, then hastened to exit the moving coach; he got the left door open and braced to jump out when the explosion happened, his body was propelled outwards to land in the soft grass.

Mahogany and velvet blew apart at the force of the fireball's impact, that which did not disintegrate was incinerated. Albrecht, who saw the the flaming projectile coming, had too little time to evade it with the coach; he could only jump from the driver's seat the second before it hit. Adolphus and Gustavus were alive but burnt and in shock, Albrecht rushed to their aid.

Jean stood up with no burns, just but a sore ankle; he noticed a man in bright coloured robes standing on the knoll with his arms outstretched. What shocked the perfumer was the wolf panting next to the robed figure, it was huge, while standing on all fours it was as tall as the man's shoulders. Imagine a black Malamute with it's thick fur; make it five and a half feet tall, have the hair on its back stick up like the spikes of a porcupine, colour its slitted eyes dark red then fill a set unnaturally wide jaws with teeth designed to rend a victim to shreds and you will have an idea of the horror that stood on the knoll.

After lowering his arms the robed man pointed towards the perfumer while giving the monster canine a command. The Beast darted down the knoll, its steps thudding loudly and its growl terrible; the robed man uttered a manic cruel laugh. Jean could not run with his bad ankle and he had no weapons; he brought out a perfume bottle, at first to deal with the beast's repulsive smell, then realised how he could best use it. After removing the lid, Jean hurled the fragrant projectile straight at the attacking monster; it smashed against the beast's snout. The huge wolf skidded to a halt, its strong olfactory senses drew in the perfume sending powerful and unprecedented stimuli to the lupine brain. Forgetting its prey the beast, shocked by the potent sensory intake, shook its head in confusion then vigorously rubbed its nose against the ground in a vain effort to be rid of this strange sensation, while emitting growls of frustration.

A loose coach wheel whirled across the plain like a discus and slammed into the Wolf's side, knocking it into a helpless roll with a painful yelp. Albrecht had hurled the wheel and now approached with a lance that was attached to the coach's side. The beast was still in a state of confusion and now pain; a whistle sound from the robed man caught its attention, the beast run back up the knoll in response to the signal. The obvious master gave his beast a further signal when it returned. The huge wolf darted into the hills towards Gevaudan. Raising his arms again the robed man yelled words that neither Jean nor Albrecht could understand; a sudden thunder cracked from a formerly docile cloud above, then forked lightning split the night virtually hitting its summoner, who vanished, then a second bolt shot out across the hills towards Gevaudan.

Jean and Albrecht conferred and agreed that the wolf was the Beast of Gevaudan and the robed man was its master and a warlock; he had conjured a fireball and hurled it at the coach front, it was too fast for the evasive steering. The ball of fire hit the side of the coach just as Jean got to other side's door, the impact force propelling him safely away. Adolphus and Gustavus were not so lucky, they copped multiple burns and heavy splinters but they will live to have adventures another day. Both horses were dead but Albrecht claimed he could perform all draught duties; placing his two injured friends on a makeshift litter, made from the wreckage, he began to drag them to Lozeres, Jean tagging along his ankle better.

They reached the town an hour later. Adolphus and Gustavus were admitted into a hospital. Albrecht wrote a letter explaining the attack and its consequences to the Baron, then handed it to Jean for delivery. A chartered coach was immediately organised to take the perfumer to the Chateau de Lune. Albrecht then surrendered to his own injuries and was admitted to the hospital for treatment, his last advice to Jean was.

"You are our friend now. Do the three of us proud in service to the Baron."

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Chapter 10**

The fresh dawn light revealed the Chateau de Lune to Hawkeye as the coach approached the front gate. New York had only a little extravagance in a mere few individual homes but none of that prepared the frontiersman for this. The place was grand and stood majestic to the surrounding French countryside. Gargoyles and other Gothic shapes adorned the archway entrance with its open steel gates, the trip through was like passing into another world.

The coach pulled up before a flight of steps, a wigged doorman greeted the passengers who got out while still dazzled at the chateau's opulence.

"The Baron is in the upper courtyard." Said the doorman. "This way please. Your luggage will be brought to your rooms."

The two trappers kept their muskets with them as they followed the doorman up the steps. Stone lions stood like guards at the top of the stairs. Chingachook walked bewildered at the sight of many Gargoyles on the upper ledges, some looked like they were ready to pounce while others sat with their heads on their knees. The Gothic look then gave way to an even more alien look when the doorman led them through a garden where the ground was pockmarked with craters specifically dug to copy the surface of the moon. Statues that adorned the area were of creatures that were so bizarre that they could only exist on the moon; three headed vultures that were so big you could ride on them, people that were covered in scales who wielded spears of asparagus and mushroom shields.

Both Hawkeye and Chingachook looked at each other with doubt about the nature of their mission and the sanity of their host; slowly they climbed the next flight of steps to the upper courtyard; the Baron was there.

"Welcome. Welcome." Blared the Baron with buoyant enthusiasm as he got out of his seat and approached the two trappers to shake hands.

Hawkeye offered his hand to find the Baron seized it with both his and shook it frantically like the scout was a long lost relative. Handshaking was not Chingachook's tribal way of greeting but seeing how frivolously his host employed it he offered his for a similarly jovial shake.

Baron Munchausen was dressed in a Prussian blue coat with gold lapels and other military ornamentation, his hair was brown with three rows of curled cylinders on each side of his head and an intricately tied ponytail. A pearly grin was framed with a plush moustache and a pointed goatee.

"It is so wonderful that you two crossed the Atlantic to be where you are so needed." He said in perfect English.

"Please take a seat." M indicated the courtyard lounge under the large umbrella. The valet was called and told to serve three tokays

Taking their seats the Baron explained that the Trans Atlantic visitors were the first to arrive, the others are expected this morning, the gathering of the League seems to be going well. The debriefing will be soon when the gathering is complete; the two trappers need time to engage their sense of wonder over the French countryside and the opulent Chateau de Lune.

The valet returned with three glasses, when each was served the Baron raised his glass and bid the others to do likewise.

"A toast to our new and unusual unity." He said as he sipped the tokay joyfully.

Hawkeye followed suit but clearly preferred ale. Chingachook took only a minimal sip having long considered strong firewater evil. After the toast M was told of the incident in the Throttled Hog in Lyons.

"Our enemy is well informed and well supported." Said M. I decided not to move on him till the League was formed. Sounds like he's afraid we could actually defeat him; when we hunt the Beast we get him also. "

"How can this evil medicine man be here and in Rhode Island?" Asked the Mohican.

"Though the records don't show it". Answered M "I believe Herr Joseph Curwen has a brother. What we have here in France is the real thing, Rhode Island has his brother."

"Tell me, those pigeons I sent you." Asked M to Hawkeye. "Did you leave them and the stakeout job with someone reliable."

"Yes." replied the scout. "I have a friend from the Catskills Mountains who agreed to watch his house, if those pigeons can cross the Atlantic you should get the first message soon."

"Aaarh". Said the Baron with a grin. "If you have heard of my adventures then you know I've done extraordinary things. Well my pigeons are likewise extraordinary and can well cross the Atlantic."

The approach of another coach had the doorman moving down the stairs to receive it.

"That will be the next member." Said M. "My valet will see you two to your rooms, your luggage will be there. Should either of you wish to groom up before the meeting you should go to the grooming room where you will find a Spanish Barber whose services I have acquired, his name is Figaro."

Hawkeye and Chingachook got up and went inside the opulent Chateau. The interior was a new culture shock for the two travellers; the vast space was decorated with plush burgundy carpet with various bearskin rugs, heavy drapes with kaleidoscopic embroidery adorned the windows on each of the floors, crystal chandeliers sparkled in the air, pedestals with ornate vases or marble busts, a knights shining armour and more of those sculptures stood facing the visitors. The walls were decorated with crossed swords, crossed guns, trophy animal heads, Persian tapestries and paintings of the Baron's adventures.

One painting showed the Baron standing defiant against the Turkish army, another showed him on a cratered landscape with those Moon creatures, a third showed him wooing the Goddess Venus, one even showed a huge whale swallowing a ship, the next portrayed the Baron on that ship inside the huge belly of that whale.

The two shocked guests looked bewilderingly at each other with a very concerned stare that translates roughly as:

"What have we got ourselves into?"

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Chapter 11**

The doorman got to top of the stairs above the Lunar garden and entered the upper courtyard to find the Baron awaiting the next guest.

"Monsieur Jean Baptiste Grenouille sir." Said the doorman

"Show him in." Requested the Baron, a little baffled.

After signalling the guest to enter, the doorman resumed his post. Jean was rough looking, rather scruffy and dazed; never the less, Munchausen got up to seize the young man's attention with a cheery greeting and a firm handshake while introducing himself.

"I am Baron Karl Friedrich Hieronymus Freiherr von Munchausen, the one who requested your help."

Jean took his time replying he was still engaging his senses, mainly sight and smell on the surroundings rather than the man who just shook his hand. A reply did soon come .

"I'm glad to be of service. It's odd for a perfumer to be invited to a wolf hunt."

"But where are my three servants?" Asked the Baron. "And my mahogany coach?"

"Adolphus, Gustavus and Albrecht are in a hospital in Lozeres." he answered. "Your coach has been destroyed, the horses killed."

Jean pulled a letter from his pocket and bid the Baron to read it for a more detailed explanation. M took and opened the letter and read it while inviting Jean to sit down. A valet served a glass of tokay to each. Jean recognised the tokay smell and was certain that this was Berthold's employer.

Munchausen finished the letter then stared at the hills for a minute, sipped his tokay but his jovial manner did not return.

"That swinehund attacked my servants and sent his beast to finish them off." Grumbled M. "We have to get him, and the beast; Jean you must help me get him."

The perfumer just nodded; the Baron grabbed his hand and shook it with both his in stirring gratitude.

"I will debrief you and the other members of the League soon." said M "Now I want you to follow the valet to your room, he will furnish you with a neat set of clothing, then you are to see Senor Figaro for some grooming. I will send for you when we're ready."

Jean only nodded, he left a minute bottle of his own perfume on the table, then followed the valet into the Chateau. The Baron slowly smelt the perfume; his fresh melancholy quickly lifted and a soothing sense of paradise comforted him.

The doorman went down the stairs to receive another coach. The Baron recognised this transport through his comfortable delirium, it was Juliette.

The beautiful feisty woman needed no introduction, as soon as she entered the courtyard she rushed the Baron with open arms. They embraced strongly, she managed a few kisses before the Baron politely pushed her back, he knew what this was leading to.

"My dear lady." he said "This is indeed a pleasure to be with you, but we cannot make it too great a pleasure. I summoned you here on an important mission and I at least have to keep my focus."

He kept his social graces well, but Juliette noticed a minor undercurrent of contempt in his manner; he knew full well her notoriety and his aristocratic moral stand was no shroud unlike most Counts and Marquis she met. Still she maintained a boisterous demeanor and a seductive look in her eyes with prolonged eye contact.

"I will fill you in along with the others why I need you here shortly." He said while outstareing her with a look of steel resolve. "Suffice to say, for the time being, that a horrid evil is blighting this land."

"What, more evil than me Baron?" She said while swaying her hips.

"Madam please." He pleaded. "I must ask you to proceed to your accommodation at once." He kissed her hand then summoned the maid.

Juliette noticed the perfume on the table, it smelt heavenly; she patted some onto her neck then lathered it close to her cleavage. She noticed the Baron's steel resolve begin to waver, she smiled then brushed by him on her way to follow the maid inside.

The Baron sat down and quickly sculled whatever tokay was left on the table. A sudden whoosh of air and several chairs knocked over announced the arrival of Berthold; the big umbrella was weighed down, so it withstood this disturbance. The valet brought out refreshments to the panting runner as he made his report to the Baron, who after several minutes seized Berthold's shoulders and pressed upon him the importance of his work. The runner was soon off again and the Baron reviewed the situation, given who he had to work with, his characteristic positivity again flourished.

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 12**

Figaro ran his razor up and down the strop to finish the blade's sharpening, he had noticed the Baron's guests arrive, he was commissioned to serve host and guests.

The Baron had required inricate trimming of his moustache and goatee, plus fine trimming of his hair beneath his aristocratic wig, which was maintained in its high class style by the barber's special attention. Baron Munchausen was a man of action and his hair and wig needed frequent attention.

Hawkeye was the first guest to enter his grooming room followed by Chingachook, the former had several weeks growth on his face, a full beard it was, having never dared to shave while on the rocky Atlantic voyage.

"Welcome all" Said Figaro in rough French. "You would be after a shave Senor?"

The Barber motioned Hawkeye to get in the barber's seat, he did so.

"I will be with you soon." Figaro assured Chingachook, who took a waiting seat.

Towels were placed around the frontiersman's shoulders, then the barber began to whisk his shaving cream.

"Aah Senor has been to sea, I can smell the Mediterranean salt in your beard." He said. "In Seville I would relieve many sailors of their salty beards. My shop is a splendid sight to all voyagers of the seven seas."

Figaro could also make out crumbs of French pastry, the smell of french ale and the Baron's Tokay before he applied the cream. Hawkeye kept the conversation to a minimum, not wanting to get cut. The shave went smoothly despite the barber's singing in Spanish.

"Your hair is long Senor, fancy a trim?" Inquired the barber.

Hawkeye declined the haircut, but let the Spaniard help him with a few hair ties. All finished, he got out of the chair with a thank you and began to exit the room with his companion.

"Senor." uttered Figaro to Chingachook. "You clearly need no shave but that hair needs to be cut."

The long haired Mohican dismissed the barber's concerns with a curt wave of his hand.

"I am not for scalping." he said. "You can only serve the hairy faced ones."

The two trappers departed, Figaro prepared his chair for the next customer then ran his razor up and down the strop.

Jean Baptiste Grenouille entered the room, a bath and new clothes had improved his appearance, yet the sight of facial growth and ill kept hair jolted Figaro into action, he quickly moved the young man into the chair. A strong whip of his towel to rid it off residue shavings sent Jean jumping out of the chair in panic; Figaro seized him and pushed him back in there.

"Don't you worry young man." He assured Jean. "I do not cut my customers' faces. Figaro will have you looking like a proper gentleman. If you are nervous and need to find your courage, imagine you are a toreador facing a charging bull."

"Actually." returned Jean. "Just last night I faced a charging wolf, it was as big as a bull and ten times as deadly."

Figaro was taken aback by this statement, he thought he was the boaster. The shave and haircut went well, Jean looked prim and proper, however he did smell the after shave and thought it sub standard.

"When I have time and means I can improve the quality of your aftershave so it gives an even greater refreshing feel." The perfumer said tactfully then left.

Juliette entered the room, Figaro smile and waved his towel.

"Would the mistress like a shave?" he jested.

The boisterous beauty grinned at this joke, then began to gyrate with a movement that allowed her loose dress to dance around her body.

"A neat trim of that beautiful hair perhaps?" he asked.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pressed herself to him.

"Aah." He said joyfully. "Si Senorita, Si."


	2. Chapter 2

**The League of Exrtaordinary Gentlemen 1766**

The small rococo lounge was fine for a meeting room for the few converging guests, Hawkeye and Chingachook shared on ornate couch, while Jean sat alone in a corner chair. Juliette picked out a soft cosy couch and sat in such a way that invites anyone to join her; when nobody approached she stretched herself horizontally on the couch, coupling her sensual body movements with heavy breathing and a tittilating hum.

The Baron had done the introductions and was now at a cleared part of the lounge setting up his easels.

Jean's was an awkward introduction, he said little and quickly resumed his solitude, the trappers could both tell that he was overly reserved and secretive.

The Mohican would later whisper to Hawkeye "This Grenouille sees with his nose and keeps his mind in shadow."

Juliette was the opposite; during introduction the two trappers employed what little they knew of aristocratic etiquette, they both nodded then offered a simple compliment; the feisty woman after a curtsy stepped forward and seized one after the other and gave a passionate kiss to both. She settled for blowing a kiss when she was introduced to the nervous Jean.

The perfumer was interested in the new scents the Americans brought, but the lively young woman had a very intoxicating personal scent, he could make it out through the residue of his perfume she was wearing; oddly enough Senor Figaro's personal scent was also on her. During whatever time Jean would have alongside Juliette he will sample her engaging odour.

"Now your attention please." Began the Baron. "I have brought you all here together so you can join your individual talents and become a league. A league of such multiple talents that when given a purpose it would meet that purpose with distinction and be able to turn away any threat that endeavors to stop you."

The four guests didn't say anything only eyed each other.

"We have Chingachook, an expert Tracker." Munchausen indicated the Indian. "We have Hawkeye, a hunter and an excellent shot. We have Jean Baptiste Grenouille who can smell an odour from far away, identify it and locate it whether we are after it or it is after us. And with us is Juliette who is adept at getting out of trouble as much as she is at getting into it. I was expecting another member to join us today, a soldier, a renegade, but he has been unfortunately waylaid, he will join us soon enough. In the meantime we will proceed.

"This land has been living in a shadow of fear, as you all would have heard, a huge wolf has preyed upon woman, children and, when their alone, men. The victims are often torn to pieces or carried away to a charnel lair for devouring; those who have survived with injuries, and that is not many, virtually always end up insane. Many hunters have stalked this Beast, some claim to have put bullets into it, but it has always eluded them and attacked others only days later, showing no sign of injury."

The Baron placed sketches of the Beast on the easels, some showed a huge wolf standing on the scattered remains of its victim, others showed the Beast size in proportion to people and to a cow.

"This is the Beast of Gevaudan." Said Baron Munchausen. "One of you has already seen it. Jean tell the what you saw."

"It was big, black and fierce." Said the perfumer slowly. "What the sketches don't tell you is that its eyes are red, its jaw is big and can shred a person into mince within a minute, the smell is foul and it has a master."

"Quite right Herr Grenouille." Continued the Baron as he placed a sketched portrait of a pallid man with a v shaped forehead and a mean look, on an easel. "I didn't summon you here just to hunt a freak wolf, the Beast of Gevaudan is sponsored by a darker evil hiding somewhere in this countryside. This portrait is of the Beast's master, whom Jean noticed when he was attacked last night. His name is Joseph Curwen, he is a warlock, sinister, cruel and aligned with even darker entities that I am at a loss to explain.

"This League will not only be an effective pool of human resouces, it can be an extraordinary unit of heroic magnificence, that will leave its mark on the face of human endeavor for centuries. I accept that there will be frictions and incompatibilies among you but if we stay together for a few days, then the evil that infests this countryside will be vanquished, the people will be safe and all of you shall have the status of legend because you were part of this grand undertaking.

"If those among you wish to discuss their place in the League you can do so privately with me later today. Otherwise we make our first move tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 14**

The lantern's dull light hit the fishpond, sending its inhabitants darting this way and that, some hid under lily pads others showed increasing levels of distress as if another disturbance was in the area, apart from the lady and her lantern.

Night had just fallen and this landmark was the chosen place for this most discreet meeting. Pamela Andrews B had left her children at a local inn, her coachman Humphrey Clinker had parked the vehicle four hundred yards away on the road and was awaiting her return; she was alone as the situation required. The parkland had statues, monoliths, trees and paved footpaths, but more important privacy.

"Madam, you wanted to see us?" Uttered a voice in the darkness.

Pamela raised her lantern at the source and saw three figures in its light, they were Patience, Diligence and Chastity, representing the Seven Virtues.

"I commissioned you to do a service in Dijon. "Said Pamela." Virtue was to be triumphant over a sickening lodestone of vice named Juliette; but it wasn't; not only did you fail to wipe away that scum, she shows up in my presence in Nevers and injures me with a hatpin."

The Englishwoman shows the three virtues her bandaged arm. Patience placed a hand on his chest in humble apology; Diligence did likewise but in such a way that conveyed continued effort until the task was done; Chasity followed suit, but being one of the two women in the a team of seven, she stood in awe at the persona of virtue Pamela Andrews had become.

"Our apologies Madam." Patience said eloquently. "We moved on her of course, but she was defended by an interfering fellow sinner who is now in a hospital with sword wounds. Despite this interference one of us did catch her sneaking out a secret exit, he failed to do his duty and paid with his life. So humility is no longer with us."

"However Madam." Diligence added. "The crusade against this particular creature of vice is still on and you can rest assured that Juliette de Lorsange will be removed from all concern."

"Virtue can do naught else but prosper in the long run." Said Chastity. "While vice will be the downfall of all who practice it."

Pamela lowered her lantern then began. "I have called you here to Gevaudan because this is where she is. You must track the loathsome viper down and finish your work. I am going back to England tomorrow morning, this crusade is in your hands now. Virtue must be triumphant."

The three virtues swore the oath of completion on behalf of themselves and the other three remaining virtues. Pamela acknowledged their pledges then bid them to depart, she will wait ten minutes before returning to her coach as she does not wish to be seen with or near them.

It was eight minutes after the virtues departure into the darkness that Pamela noticed a great deal of agitation among the goldfish in the pond, much more than that generated by her presence. She would be gone soon, she would walk back to her coach, Humphrey Clinker would take her back to the inn, tomorrow morning she would take her children and ride to Calais, take a ship back to England then watch the French newspapers for the report she wanted.

It was when Pamela began her stroll back to the coach that a savage roar from nearby reverberated through peaceful parkland. Turning to the source of this noise the Englishwoman saw two blazing red eyes in front of a huge black figure running down an adjacent hill towards her; dropping her lantern she fled in terror, realising that this was the dreaded Beast of Gevaudan.

Her dress and shoes were not made for running but Pamela made the most frantic effort possible; she had left the path to her coach, fear had distorted her sense of direction, she ran blindly through the parklands, often clawing madly through tree branches and bushes while the guttural growls of her pursuer drew closer. Screams for help became shrill and desperate but she realised nobody was around to hear them. The virtues has left, her coachman was too far down the road, she no longer knew in which direction she was running, there was no protection available; not her husband, not her valets, not even a chaperon.

A frantic look back revealed the savage horror was bearing down on her fast, it was a big black wolf, but when it bounded over obstructions it looked demonic with its burning red eyes. Pamela wondered, while she continued to run and scream, why a hellhound would come after her; the most virtuous woman; the answer that came to her frightened mind was that by enforcing virtue with conspiracy to murder a person of vice, she had ceased to bear her most proud quality; virtue.

Tree branches whipped her face, sticks bruised her shins and rocks stubbed her toes, but it was when she ran into a sundial that her desperate run in the darkness ended with her falling flat on her face. The instant before the beast pounced on her she quickly whispered her last words.

"Oh Juliette forgive me."

The Beast's forepaws landed on her back pinning her down to the ground, its huge jaws bit into the back of her neck with such ferocity that it twisted while it crushed. Pamela's screams of pain disappeared with shock. The tearing, mauling and devouring would last a while but for Pamela Andrews the ordeal and life itself ended early with a quick snap of her neck.


	4. Chapter 4

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 15**

Report: Observation Post Providence Rhode Island

This stakeout job is good for someone like me, noted as a lazy person by my neighbours in the Catskills. Spending days watching over an abode in Providence gets me away from my henpecking wife.

The subject of my watch, Joseph Curwen rarely shows up, however I have caught sightings of him. Using the spyglass I can catch sight of him through a window; he seems utterly inactive, his servants do everything for him, they even feed him bringing food to his mouth while he just stares blankly at the wall.

A fellow scrutineer Ezra Weedon joined me on a vigil one day and he caught a glimpse of the inactive subject. He confirmed to me that it was indeed Joseph Curwen. I don't know how he can be both here and in France as you say.

A short coach trip was the one time I saw him go outside, he had to be carried into the vehicle. The coach went through town and back again, Curwen never interacted with anyone nor left the coach, just stared out the window as it passed through town. When it was over his servants carried him back into the house.

This ends my report, I will attach it to the first designated pigeon and let fly.

Yours sincerely Rip Van Winkle.

Munchausen read the report out to the other coach passengers; the Americans thought it just deepened the mystery, Jean and Juliette were baffled, they were brought together to fight someone here in France not across the Atlantic and apparently brain dead.

"Perhaps the man we're visiting now can explain it better than me." Said the Baron.

The coach sped into Gevaudan in the early dark. Hawkeye thought of a mink showing off its prize fur when he noticed Juliette, she made a lot of seductive movements, especially when she saw him looking her way. Jean gave a lot of attention to what was being passed by, he was picking up new interesting scents and then losing them as the coach sped passed; he also gave much olfactory attention to Juliette.

Chingachook made his own animal representations of these two French associates; Jean was a sniffing dog while Juliette was a rampant she rabbit.

Jean Baptiste Grenouille preferred walking, he could sample all the new smells he sensed, travelling in a coach made the sensation too fleeting. The perfumer briefly enjoyed the different scents the Americans brought, the tanned hides were old experiences from his early days in a tannery, the coonskin hat was interesting, but their personal odours, especially Chingachook's had a touch of the exotic. Juliette had a personal scent that was sweet, powerful and intoxicating, it wasn't the best scent in the world, he had already designated that, but if he could extract her scent and bottle it; no not yet, the Baron would be so disappointed if he knew Jean's nature.

Juliette spent the trip eyeing Hawkeye, when she had time she would like to drag the scout by his hair ties into her bed. Chingachook also had a level of appeal, being an Indian made the idea fanciful but he was a bit on the old side and his face showed not only disinterest but an underlying sadness. Grenouille made her feel uneasy; his face was scarred by smallpox, his personal odour smelt like a mixture of vinegar and cat droppings, he didn't say much, starred at her morbidly, and there was that sniffing, he was constantly smelling her as if she was a cooking ingredient; very disturbing.

The coach arrived in Gevaudan and stopped at a theatre. Munchausen told the coachman to rest and feed the horses at the local stable the pick us up in an hour. After the coach departed Chingachook told the Baron that they are being watched from above; he couldn't point out the location he just felt it.

"What else can we do but proceed." Said M.

The party moved to the theatre door, M gave a standard knock, it opened and a doorman ushered them inside.

"If you could make your way to the central stage the Graf will see you all." Ushered the Doorman.

They travelled through the ground floor aisles to the stage. This was a rotund theatre where the stage is faced by a semicircle of seats on the ground floor and ring of balconies on the upper floor. Drop curtains were suspended just above the balconies should ever they need to fall.

"Welcome everyone to Cagliostro's Theatre," Said the Graf

Cagliostro was resplendent in his crimson dinner suit and black cape; he carried a cane even though he didn't need it, he was young but with all the confidence of maturity. His manner was that of a showman.

Munchausen returned the greeting and introduced the League, Cagliostro gave a cheery hello to all especially Juliette, then presented his lead actress Nell Bowen who came out from behind stage and placed herself next to a large firebowl, she was dressed showgirl style.

Juliette remembers reading about Nell Bowen, she was an English actress who got herself shut up in a mental hospital, Bedlam it was called; not the best career move.

Squeaking wheels brought attention to another female figure entering the stage, her legs did not move, nor did her face, she was dressed beautifully; when she stopped her arms opened wide as if to embrace then hugged thin air and opened up again. Jean could smell iron and lubricant then realised what the others just realised. This was an automaton.

"And this is one my attractions" Said Cagliostro. "Olympia, and behind her is her creator Hungarian inventor Werner von Kempelen."

The bewigged inventor showed himself.

"The squeaking gave it away." He said. "I must work on that and make her dress longer, it does the illusion no good to see her legs immobile. Nell would you please show my other exhibit."

Nell moved to the end of the stage behind the curtain, everyone could here some winding up then saw Nell running across the stage with what looked like a huge wolf chasing her. It was brown and slow with jaws that constantly opened and closed out of sync with the strange sounds that were to pass of as growls, the paws barely touched the floor as it was propelled by hidden wheels. The wolf stopped after a few yards.

"Quite brilliant Werner." Complimented the Baron. "I take it you are going to pass that off as the Beast."

"But that looks nothing like the beast." Interrupted Jean. "I've seen it up close. It has black fur and red eyes."

"Let's just say." Answered Werner. "That we are using the paranoia about the Beast for entertainment purposes."

"To summarize my show here." Said Cagliostro. "I will be putting on acts of somnambulism, knife throwing, simple magic, automatons and esoteric talk of mankind and its relation to the cosmos. The latter is why you are here, The Baron has brought you here to kill the Beast of Gevaudan and the evil that sponsors it, but how much do you know of that evil? That its name is Joseph Curwen. Well that is correct but that is a kind interpretation. If I was to go on to explain the evil that he serves, you would all be thrown into despair."

Munchausen showed Winkle's report. The showman bid his current audience to take a seat.

"This report confirms my latest research into this man. Joseph Curwen has studied the arcane to high levels, he has studied the works of all known alchemists and many unknown ones. He has achieved many abilities that are unnatural, the first is immortality, or at least prolonged youth. Curwen has for a long time retained the appearance of someone around thirty years old, yet he had a noted presence at the Salem Witch Trials in 1692, Judge Thomas Danforth later wrote that 'if there was one witch in these proceedings it was Joseph Curwen who has wisely bolted to other pastures.'

"His next skill and often used one is necromancy, he has the ability to bring the dead back to life as long as he has the complete essential salts of the corpse. There have been reports of disturbed graves in Providence, this is Curwen exhuming the corpses in order to practice and perfect this skill, he also tortures the resurrected people to learn local secrets which help his advancement in the community. He can also advance his knowledge of the occult by doing the same to long dead practitioners.

"Elemental forces are also in his sphere. He can control lightning, as that is often seen when the Beast attacks. I'm certain he can control wind and maybe rain and fire."

"Oh he can." Said Jean. "He conjured up a fireball and hurled it at a coach I was in."

"Well. There you go." Said Cagliostro. "He has also found windows into other spheres of existence where dwell entities whose appearance would be beyond our abilities to comprehend. He has communed with at least one and that is called Yog Sothoth, he has mentioned that name both here and in Rhode Island.

"When I saw that report from Van Winkle I became certain that he has achieved another perverse sorcery, that of creating a Doppelganger. What he did was create an exact duplicate of himself, however that sorcery has a flaw, the mind is not reproduced, one mind can only inhabit one body. The mind of Joseph Curwen is here in Gevaudan inhabiting either the real or the copy; that which is in Providence is a body without a mind, not to be observed but occasionally paraded around for the sake of normality.

"So my friends you are dealing with someone multi-talented, thoroughly evil and probably insane."

"Thank you Cagliostro." Said M "Any ideas on how we eliminate him?"

The showman twirled his cane and said. "The normal way, a musket shot should do it, the hard part is finding him and getting through his many defences. He is never at his registered lodging and he is protected by not just the Beast but by a wolf cult of his own design made up of criminals dressed in wolfskins."

Hawkeye and Chingachook remembered their attackers in the Throttled Hog tavern had wolfskins on them.

Jean smelled that Cagliostro had a chemistry lab backstage, but his senses were soon drowned by Nell Bowen Lighting strong incence, though this flooded sensation he did pick up approaching presences.

"Baron," he uttered. "Wolves are approaching."

The trappers honed their senses on the surrounding area then began to ready their muskets. Munchausen prepared his pistol and drew his sword. Juliette followed suit, reached for her garter holster and readied her pistol..

"Werner." said Cagliostro. "Take Nell and Juliette backstage."

The inventor motioned Nell backstage, Juliette refused finding it ridiculous that wolves would enter a theatre. Olympia was pushed behind the curtain.

Footsteps were heard on the upper floor then a musket muzzle appeared at each balcony, pointed at the stage, a man in a wolfskin was behind each musket. A few wolf men with muskets occupied the ground floor aisles, one of these casually walked onto the stage, he told the others to shoot anyone who stopped him. The Baron demanded an explanation from the gatecrasher.

"It is over for you Baron Munchausen." Said the wolfskin man in German. "Those who have immortality will go on."

M noted in his dialect that he was from the Black Forest and used some obsolete words that go back at least one hundred years.

The wolfskined gatecrasher took a candle and lit the oil in the firebowl then placed an orb in the flaming oil before departing the stage. A ghost-like head appeared in the fire and gave a manic laughter.

"Greetings to the current League of Extraordinary Gentlemen." Said the ghost head. "I am Joseph Curwen, the man you joined forces to eliminate; so I feel it is only right that I kill all of you. I have exhumed many secrets from the dead and the concept of the League is no exception. My Beast and I have much work to do and would appreciate your annihilation. Congratulations on even making it to formation but that's as far as it goes. My wolfmen will finish all of you and I will hear of your termination when they return. Goodbye."

The head dissolved in the flames. Everyone on the stage stood under the guns of their firing squad.


	5. Chapter 5

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Chapter 16**

Redmond Barry laid down on a rooftop overlooking the main street in Gevaudan, his spyglass handy. This observation post was crude and uncomfortable, but how else could Wagner be spotted? The Irishman had enquired locals about any Germans in the area but time and time again the townsfolk answered Baron Munchausen and his retainers; so if Wagner was to be found it would have to be through observation and this was the best place.

Fritz and Karl had occupied this post in shifts during the day, the night shift was Redmond's. The spot was discreet; not in line of sight of any window and you would have to stand up to be seen from the street. Any pedestrian could be viewed secretly so Wagner should be spotted eventually if this post is maintained, once that happens, the mark should be followed to his address then the others informed.

Doing this duty in the night was problematic, Redmond could see the pedestrians and get a close look at their faces with the spyglass, but the dark made it difficult to make out an individual. The facial observation necessary could only be achieved when a person would raise a lantern to their own face or when lighting a cigar, pipe or cigarette. Fritz and Karl were aware of this difficulty but told Redmond to do the best he can.

There were not many people on the street tonight. The terror of the Beast of Gevaudan seemed to keep people indoors at night even though it never attacked anyone within the town itself. Crowds were expected in a few nights; the theatre was soon to open with a new show by Cagliostro and the observation post was right next to it.

In a few nights, the spy reckoned, he would be able to recognise each drunk, whore, beggar and peddler on the street; not a pleasing thought, Wagner had better show up soon so this detail can end.

Redmond began to munch on his biscuits when a coach drove up the street and pulled over at the theatre. The first person out was Baron Munchausen. Redmond had met the Baron in Berlin while the debonair aristocrat was inspecting the espionage service that the Irishman served. The second person out was offered the Baron's hand, she was a beautiful young woman who took the hand for balance then began to stretch out her arms in a rather teasing manner. Next came a rather morbid looking young man who seemed to be taking in the sights of the town while nothing much could be seen in the dark. Finally the last two stepped onto the footpath; Redmond recognised the trappers ambushed in Lyons; Hawkeye and Chingachook, the Baron must have brought them here to hunt the Beast, the spy reckoned.

After watching the coach drive off and the Baron's group entered the theatre, Redmond continued with his biscuits and hoped the coffee he had before starting this shift would sustain him through the night. A group of men bearing packs and muskets began to gather in the side street where the theatre side door was. These men clearly preferred to move in darkness but preparation of their muskets and other weapons required lanterns; this allowed Redmond to make out several faces; he recognised two as ambushers from the Throttled Hog Inn at Lyons. It was clear that this group were going to have another go at Hawkeye and Chingachook, probably Munchausen as well; this time there were more of them. The spy could not count all of them but there must have been around forty.

A knock on the theatre door had all but one man stand aside out of sight, when the door opened the knocker rushed the doorman, smothering his screams with a hand over his mouth and stabbing the unfortunate servant in the chest. The group was made up of whispering Frenchmen, but a command for donning uniforms was said in a German accent. Redmond tried to make out the leader as apparel was taken out of the packs and put on; what each man donned was a wolfskin with with the head, placed over the wearer's cranium and the lupine upper jaw resting on the bridge of his nose.

It was during this vesting that Redmond spotted the face of the leader; startled, he just recognised Fernand Wagner, the very man he was sent here to find. The spy had a pistol and could have killed the fugitive from his hiding place, but that would be suicide, the other wolfmen would certainly catch and kill him.

Redmond Barry considered his options: fetch Fritz and Karl, but that would take half an hour, Wagner would be long gone and his nasty business done; yell out a warning to the Baron, that would give them virtually no time to understand their peril and it will bring the wolfmens' attention to his presence; sit back and let Wagner do his foul work then follow him home, that would forsake Munchausen's entourage and shadowing forty men home, even in the dark, is bound to be noticed.

Being a spy was not the Irishman's chosen vocation, he wanted to be let loose to make his fortune, so there was usually great reluctance to risk his life in the line of duty, but this was different, he had an opportunity to gain the Baron's favour. Redmond knew that in Prussian society; if you wanted to get promotions, decorations, titles or social acceptance, brace for a scandal or even desert your military duty; it would be best to have the favour of Baron Munchausen, who the nation had taken to heart, to turn popular and relevant thought in your favour. This espionage operative was going to desert one day, the Baron's favour would be handy.

The wolfmen moved into the theatre, their muskets ready. The Irishman climbed down from his observation post when last wolfman entered, still lacking a plan to intervene he ducked into a dark corner when an extra man with a musket showed up. The straggler tried clumsily to adorn his wolfskin while drinking from a bottle of spirits. Redmond darted out of his hiding place, wrapped his arm around the straggler's throat and squeezed the tender windpipe till the figure went limp. Infiltration seemed to be the best available plan, after dumping the straggler's body in a nearby coal bin the spy took the wolfskin which fitted well and the musket was much like the one he used during the war, he readied it and entered the theatre stepping over the doorman's corpse.

Noises and footsteps revealed that a few wolfmen were in the ground floor auditorium while the bulk of the intruders were upstairs. The ex-soldier knew the value of high ground and crept up the steps; what he saw was a series of curtains along a walkway. A wolfman appeared out of a curtain and pointed to Redmond.

"You" he said. "You're in there. Go on."

Realising that the wolfman did not pick up that he was an impostor, the Irish Rogue entered the designated curtain. The organiser went down the walkway to his post elsewhere, not getting a good look at who he just ordered. Redmond found himself in a balcony overlooking the stage; a wolfman was there, his musket ready to shoot anyone on the stage; other balconies were similarly manned.

When the spy took his position at the edge, the incumbent sniper gave a quick glance at his new partner; Redmond tried to look part of the team, but a return glance from the wolfman told him he failed. A swift movement of his musket sent the butt slamming into the scrutineer's head, knocking him out; Redmond placed the limp figure in the balcony seat, leaning him on the parapet with his musket looking ready for use.

It appears nobody saw the spy in action; those in the other balconies were focused on the stage and the ghostly looking head manifesting itself in the blazing firebowl. Baron Munchausen and his entourage were on the stage listening to the apparition, the showman with them had to be Cagliostro.

When the spectral talker uttered his goodbye and vanished, a brief silence filled the theatre. The targeted people on the stage observed the many guns above them and a few on their level aimed at them; the silence suddenly broke when a voice from the latter yelled out the dreaded order.

"Kill them."

Baron Munchausen executed a quick flick of his wrist which sent his drawn short-sword spinning into the air; with superbly calculated accuracy it severed a taut rope near the ceiling. Instantly all the balcony drop curtains fell, the muskets were protruding from their designated battlements and virtually all fired the second after the falling curtains pressed them down, sending each shot to a useless nowhere.

Redmond Barry had not fired his musket, adding the firearm of his unconscious partner to his personal arsenal he entered the next balcony to find the two posted wolfmen leaning over the parapet to see what's going on, their muskets had been fired, a strong goose sent one over the edge to a neck breaking fall; the other needed more effort; a push was met with a grapple, then the two wrestled. Redmond had the advantage of having his feet on the floor, the wolfman was sitting precariously on the parapet, soon the Irishman gained a free hand, sweeping his antagonist's legs over the edge. The plummet was accompanied by a scream and desperate efforts to grab the curtain and break his fall.

Some wolfmen were running down the stairs to engage the targets in melee combat, others were climbing down the curtains to do likewise. When Redmond entered the next balcony he faced two wolfmen reloading their muskets.

"Quick." One wolfman said. "Give me one of those muskets."

The unfortunate gunman discontinued his reloading and reached out for the obviously unused firearm. Redmond leveled the musket at his chest and fired; the target died almost instantly. The other wolfman dropped his musket and pressed himself into the corner, covering his body with arms and legs; that left one open target zone; the impostor pointed the second musket at the panicked man's head and fired.

The Irishman noticed the two occupants of the next balcony were climbing down the curtain to the stage to murder the Baron's entourage who were, by the sound of it, fighting for their lives. There was little more he could do up in the balconies; grabbing a half reloaded musket, he speedily completed readying it before slinging the gun over his back then tearing off his wolfskin; he stood on the parapet. Lifting up a stretch of drop curtain from below, Redmond firmly seized a scrunched portion then propelled himself outward; the first half of his downward arc ended when the curtain attained full stretch, the jerk was strong but his grip held, now he was swinging towards the wall, his feet absorbed the impact. He was now within jumping distance from the stage, so with a calculated bound from the wall the spy landed on top of the two wolfmen who had climbed down and reached the stage. The shock totally took all fight out of them, Redmond promptly got to his feet and taking a stunned wolfman's head with each hand, smashed them together, knocking both out.

A look up found the Irish rogue staring at a musket muzzle, but a smile of friendly recognition from a surprised Hawkeye assuaged his fear.


	6. Chapter 6

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 17**

Stunned amazement over the talking ghost head in the firebowl immediately gave way to overwhelming concern about the many guns aimed at them from above and below; Hawkeye saw no escape from this predicament. A jump of the stage or to duck under a balcony would still leave the League members in several muskets' line of fire; their enemy had clearly gone all out to finish them when the League was just getting started. The trapped trapper saw that the other league members and Cagliostro were also desperately looking for an escape, only M stood proud while unsheathing a shortsword.

"Kill them." Commanded the wolfskinned German in the auditorium.

Hawkeye did not see M's action but the sudden descent of the drop curtains over the balconies ruining all musket shots from above simultaneously, was seen with a welcome exaltation. Cagliostro quickly untied a rope which began the lowering of the main curtain in front of the stage. The wolfmen in the audience still had their shots and aimed the muzzles at the League; Hawkeye yelled out a command to duck, everyone on the stage did so, the instant before the barrage, placing themselves under the deadly range. Two wolfmen saved their shots, seeing the unfavourable trajectory when shooting from below, they raced the lowering curtain to reach the stage for a level shot. Hawkeye aimed his musket and shot the first woflman dead as he approached the stage edge; Chingachook did likewise to the second. The two trappers then rushed to the edge to seize the unused firearms.

Jean got to his feet as soon as the main curtain completed its fall, the others were also up. The Baron drew his sabre, Cagliostro twisted the head of his cane and pulled out a sword, Juliette hid herself behind a curtain. The wolfskinned ambushers were rushing down the stairs to attack with knives, swords and clubs; some were climbing down the curtains; Jean,who had hidden himself in a wall niche, dealt with one of the latter by slamming a cudgel into the back of his head as soon as he landed, killing him outright. The perfumer then rushed backstage.

Baron Munchausen ran his sabre into a curtain, taking out a climber. Another curtain had a wolfman descend not by climbing but by falling, breaking his neck in the process; a second faller soon followed from the same balcony, this one was only slightly hurt, the Baron finished him with a sword slash to the throat. Either these two wolf cultists were incredibly clumsy or someone up above was on the League's side.

A wolf cultist, nearly completing his climb down the curtain, with a knife clenched in his teeth suddenly felt one enter his groin; dropping on his feet to the stage floor, the pain opened his mouth releasing his own knife; Juliette grabbed it then thrust the blade into his throat. Taking care not to get blood on her dress, the sensual vixen retrieved her own blade from the corpses groin, wiped it on his wolfskin and picked another curtain to hide behind.

The two frontiersmen slid off the edge of the stage just as the main curtain completed its fall; each seizing a loaded musket from their last targets. Their were only four enemies left in the audience seat area, one was reloading his musket, the German accented leader was rallying those who were coming down the stairs, two were charging the trappers. Chingachook's attacker had a sword, the Mohican aimed the musket and shot him dead. Hawkeye's opponent had a hunting knife and a bad attitude, putting aside the gun, the frontier scout drew his own knife; the charge was loud and overly forward, the dodge was agile and graceful sending the blade into the wolfman's hamstring in the process. The attacker turned to face his target but the leg wound sent him into a face down stumble; Hawkeye finished him off with prompt throat cut. More wolfmen entered the auditorium from the stairs, the leader told them to rush the stage. The two Americans got back on stage behind the curtain. Hawkeye considered shooting the enemy who had nearly finished reloading his musket but realised he will not waste his shot by shooting blindly into the burgundy curtain.

Multiple aromas brought Jean to a backstage room; opening the door he saw several shelves with many jars each containing their own substances; plant, mineral and liquid. A work table was set up for preparation of theatrical concoctions. Nell Bowen was there aiming a pistol at the perfumer.

"I'm on your side remember." Said Jean "Watch the door. If someone comes in wearing a wolfskin, then you shoot. I've got to work fast."

Nell turned her attention to the door; she couldn't tell if she was safer out there where the fighting is or in here with this Frenchman who, for reasons she could not tell, sent a chill through her mind.

The perfumer grabbed several choice ingredients from the shelves without reading the labels, mostly liquids, and began mixing them into a bowl.

"Here they come." Yelled Hawkeye as he rolled onto the stage under the curtain.

M was trying to tell the Americans to take positions indicated by pointing when someone appeared to be swinging from a balcony using the curtains; two more wolfmen emerged from the drapery below; the swinger landed on top of them, he had no wolfskin but had a musket strapped to his back. The two wolfmen stunned by being landed on had their heads bashed together by the swinger, they were both knocked out. Hawkeye aimed his musket at this abrupt presence then found he was facing Redmond Barry who was once again his surprise ally.

Wolfmen began to come through the curtain. Chingachook readied his axe like weapon, Redmond attached a bayonet to his musket. Most of the attackers had melee weapons but M noticed a gunman about to shoot from under the curtain; a report from the Baron's pistol fell the gunman's own personal curtain. Munchausen dropped his spent pistol and engaged, with his sabre, two attacking wolfmen.

Chingachook seemed to make an unwise move, he turned his back on his two attackers, when they rushed the apparently vulnerable Indian he pivoted around swinging his heavy blade which shore through a leg and sent the other opponent whirling off balance to avoid the deadly swing. The Mohican had his knife and found the off balance enemy an easy target for a stab in the heart; the foe who lost his lower leg an even easier kill as he was in shock.

Baron Munchausen proved to be a debonair swordsman he was parrying two swords with superb skill, a move worthy of any dueling praise gave an uppercut scar to one of his antagonists. Taken aback, the wounded wolfman disengaged, leaving his partner fighting solo; the aristocratic soldier outclassed him in sword fighting and soon opened his throat. The newly scarred wolfman re-engaged; it would have been an easy victory for Munchausen had he not trod on a severed leg which rolled and sent him falling on his back; a sword thrust towards his torso was cut short by a gunshot from the curtain, killing the scarred enemy. M saw Juliette at a gap in the curtain with a smoking pistol and a cheeky smile.

Months in the Prussian army were not wasted on Redmond Barry when two wolfmen jumped onto the stage and rushed him he fired the musket into one taking him out of the equation. A club was swung by the remaining foe, the Irishman managed to dodge the clumsy weapon until an opening allowed Redmond to slam the musket butt into the attackers face, giving a crucial moment to run the bayonet into the clubber's ribcage.

Several wolfmen bypassed the defence line and rushed Cagliostro: a well timed pull of a lever sent one falling down a trap door that opened up in the stage floor; a quick severing of a stage rope sent a counterweight of sandbags dropping on another, knocking him out; a knife throw from the showman ended the third attacker's approach; the next knife throw however, was deflected by the last foe's sword. There was no time for another Knife throw, Cagliostro raised his sword and crossed it with that of the wolfman; the fight soon became a wrestling match for possession of the interlocked weapons.

Hawkeye felt he should hold his shot, so when an enemy swordsman charged him he parried with the musket, then found he had to keep parrying, this swordsman was not going to allow an opening for the scout to use his weapon for anything other than defensive moves. A series of swings followed by a lunge, that was only barely parried, sent Hawkeye falling backwards; the wolfman moved to use the moment of vulnerability when a thrown tomahawk cleft his skull. Chingachook was still looking out for him, but that went both ways; Hawkeye noticed a gunman looking through the main curtain for a target and the Mohican was it; the trapper aimed his musket and fired, dropping the gunman where he stood.

Nell noticed Jean wrap garlic and rose petals into a napkin and tie it around his mouth and nose as if he was a bandit, he then emptied his mixing bowl into an empty jar, put the lid on and shook it; removing the lid he attached a small pump and squirt hose.

"Open the door." He said. "I'm going out there."

The actress did not want to argue with him, she actually wanted him gone. When the door was opened she saw Cagliostro about to lose his struggle for possession of the swords and get gutted. Not waiting for Jean to do his stuff, she darted out, brought the pistol close to the wolfman's head and fired. Cagliostro saw his opponent's head burst open, then let Nell help him up to catch his breath.

A sudden move swept the curtains aside and Juliette was revealed to Fernand Wagner, the leader of the wolfmen; her pistol was spent and she did not have the means to reload it, but she had her knife hidden. The wily courtesan began her seductive movements, the wolfman leader seemed to be taken in by this and embraced her, but when the knife came out it was intercepted, a painful squeeze of her hand took the dagger from her hold. With one hand on her throat and the other probing her body with her own knife, she wondered if she was going to get choked, stabbed or both. The other members of the League were all currently engaged with the enemy. With her free hands and fading consciousness she swiftly untied her dress and, in accordance with years of practice, completely disrobed in quick time.

Fernand Wagner was awestruck at the wondrous and unexpected sight of Juliette's naked body; he found himself reluctant to drive the knife into her or finish choking her. While he pondered this splendid vision, arms grabbed him from behind. Releasing his hold on Juliette, the wolfman used the knife to stab his attacker in the leg only to find he was stabbing metal; managing to turn around he then backed strongly into the curtain hoping to crush his captor between him and the wall; this was achieved but did not affect his release, he only heard the crash of metal. The naked woman recovered her senses and saw that her rescuer was Olympia, the automaton, but this time her arms were not going to retract; Werner von Kempelen must have set them to lock shut when they embraced then sent her to task.

The wolfman leader who was also a fugitive from Prussian justice became frantic and ran towards the edge of the stage throwing himself off with the metal woman still clinging to him.

Jean walked onto the stage and worked the hand pump, the squirt hose sent a splash of his liquid concoction into the face of a nearby wolfman, who after one second dropped to the floor unconscious. The perfumer was attacked by by two wolfmen but a quick squirt into each of their faces dropped them before they could get to him. Members of the League who were engaged in melee with the enemy found their opponents suddenly fainting after being splashed in the face, the smell of the strange fluid was potent and proximity alone nearly brought unconsciousness.

"Retreat Retreat." Commanded Fernand Wagner who had just freed himself from Olympia's embrace and noticed the new liquid weapon.

All active wolfmen bolted for the exit, there were only a few left standing. The retreat was swift and worked far better than the ambush. Melees were disengaged with members of the League unwilling to pursue the retreating enemy. Redmond Barry saw Fernand Wagner give the order to retreat and make for the door but close proximity to the strange fluid had made him nauseous, so he could not pursue the fugitive.

M and the League looked around the theatre to see all the dead and unconscious bodies of their enemies. A one man applause came from Cagliostro as he approached M.

"Baron Munchausen." Said the showman. "That is one of the best performances this theatre has seen. You have assembled a brilliant cast."


	7. Chapter 7

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Chapter 18**

Morning tea was a delight of croissants, waffles and coffee, the three agents had found Baron Munchausen a pleasant host. Fritz and Karl were filled in on the events at Cagliostro's theatre; the Baron was all praise about Redmond Barry's surprise contribution to their battle against the murderous wolfmen. When the fight was over the grateful aristocrat approached the Irishman on the stage, recognised him and the service he worked for, then spent the next five minutes pouring praise and honour on the gatecrashing spy. Hawkeye and Chingachook patiently waited for their chance to thank their old ally from the Throttled Hog tavern for once again helping them out in a moment of desperate conflict. Juliette used the thanking time to get dressed, but not too fast, when she was introduced to the blond spy, she knew exactly what she could do to thank him. Jean said little, spending most of the time disposing of his knockout concoction.

After hearing of their mission M realised that it was intertwined with his; their target Fernand Wagner was leader of the wolfmen, who clearly served Joseph Curwen and adorned wolfskins as a homage to the Beast of Gevaudan, which the warlock obviously controlled. The Baron would like to have transferred Redmond to his League then and there, but that would be an abuse of his standing in the German military; these agents needed him to complete their mission.

It was suggested by the spies, that they be allowed to interrogate some of the wounded wolfmen from the theatre fight as to their leader's location, but were disappointed to hear that none are alive to tell anything; less than an hour after the battle, all who still lived, whether wounded or knocked out by Jean's concoction, died simultaneously from a burst blood vessel in the head. Joseph Curwen apparently had power of life and death over all those who signed up with him; upon hearing of the theatre fight's outcome from the retreaters, he would have cast a death spell over all wolfmen who were left behind. Fritz and Karl found this claim incredible, they had never heard of the evil warlock, but out of respect for the Baron, did not pursue the matter.

Twirling the tip of his moustache, Munchausen announced he remembered where he had seen Fernand Wagner, he was employed as a gardener for the Marquis St de Evremonde who had a temporary chateau in the area.

"The Marquis is having a party tonight." Said the Baron. "Followed by a wolf hunt tomorrow. Me and my current guests are invited; you two should get employment as waiters for this party, they will be needed and I can give you references; once you're in there you should find him. Redmond will have to come in with me as an extra guest, Wagner might recognise him now, so only call him to service when the target has been located."

Fritz, Karl and Redmond thanked the Baron for his guidance and hospitality, waited for the references then accepted them gleefully; Redmond agreed to show up at the Chateau de Lune early afternoon and let Munchausen help him out with his formal attire for the party. The three agents departed giving a Prussian salute.

M walked into the main lounge to find the league members rigorously questioning Jean Baptiste Grenouille about how he made that knockout concoction. The perfumer started by saying that it is his profession to make liquid mixtures that tantalise, seduce and even confuse people; it's therefore within his skill range to manufacture a perfume that has the strength to cause a sensory overload, thus knocking the sniffer out. Juliette was not content with this basic explanation and demanded to know the recipe for this concoction.

Jean explained that he doesn't know it, at least not in words, the substances in Cagliostro's backstage laboratory were not labeled, he picked out the ingredients by scent alone; the makeshift mask was made up with filtering scents to prevent him getting knocked out by his own concoction.

Hawkeye went on to ask why he disposed of the knockout perfume, it would have been useful in future engagements. Jean tried to explain that the mixture would have putrefied, lost its usefulness then stunk out the theatre or wherever it was taken; if there was more time he could have made a more enduring concoction.

An apology from Baron Munchausen ended the questioning; Grenouille was relieved.

"I don't know if you have heard." Said the Baron. " But the Beast of Gevaudan had claimed another victim last night. I would like you all to come with me to the site and view the evidence for clues. The coach will leave soon."

The League members rushed to their rooms to get ready, except Jean who asked M for leave to return to Cagliostro's theatre to help him prepare some stage concoctions as well as some liquid mixtures that would be helpful to the League, including some more knockout perfume.

"Jean." He Said. "I have much faith in your judgement that you will be more useful there than at the attack site. You were brilliant at that theatre, if there is where you will best be of use to us, then there you should go. A separate coach will be arranged for you, I reckon your going to impress all of us again and again. Albrecht, Adolphus and Gustavus will be very proud of you."

The perfumer was near speechless, he managed an awkward thanks then walked to his room to prepare.

It was about noon when the coach arrived at the park; M, Juliette, Hawkeye and Chingachook got out to see civilians on the periphery kept out by a police cordon manned by soldiers, volunteers and gendarmes. Their were monks leading a procession of schoolboys on a orderly hike; they were turned away when they got to the cordon. After a brief word with the present magistrate M gained permission for his entourage to enter the park. Statues, monoliths and a fishpond decorated the recreational area, but it was at the sundial where the grisly kill was done.

Munchausen caught a glimpse of the gory site then told Juliette to leave the park and wait near the coach; despite having many unladylike experiences, she decided seeing a horrendously mutilated corpse would be one she could do without. Twirling her parasol, Juliette headed back to the coach, wondering why she had come; well it was a lovely day for a walk in the countryside.

The charnel sight of the mutilated corpse sent a swell of stomach churning revulsion through the two trappers; they had seen corpses mauled by grizzly bears, but this was a whole new level of horror. Baron Munchausen took one look and went to nearby rock to sit down and recover; none of his adventures had prepared him for this. The body, what was left of it, was that of an adult woman; it was in pieces that were ripped from the torso then chewed and partially devoured; the spine had been torn out the back, the head severed, the ribcage torn open and internal organs extracted then half eaten.

"This is work of big wolf." Said Chingachook. "Nothing like what we have back home."

The German aristocrat recovered his composure then began to question the police and medical examiners at the site. The victim was an Englishwoman, Pamela Andrews B, she was touring France with her children; for some unknown reason she went into the park alone after telling her coachman to wait down the road. Munchausen excused himself from the frontiersmen to go and question Humphrey Clinker, the victim's coach driver.

Hawkeye took a good look at the bite marks on the corpse and deduced that this beast would have a wide mouth and big teeth, larger than that of a bear. Chingachook closely examined the wolf's tracks then shared with Hawkeye his estimation of the Beast's extremely large size and extra heavy mass. The two trappers readied their muskets and kept them close as they began to follow the bloodied tracks.

Juliette left the park through the police cordon, but did not return to the coach, she was going to have a lovely walk. Apart from roads and the occasional building, the outskirts of the park were all pleasant countryside rich in trees and bushes. It was at a very picturesque scene that a young man of aristocratic bearing approached her.

"My my." He said. "I come out here to observe the beauty of the natural world and I find that no tree, no flower, no ornamental lake could match the splendid vision I have before me now. Tell me does this figure of loveliness have a name."

"Juliette." Said the flattered woman with a smile. "And you."

"Viscomte de Valmont, Mademoiselle." He answered. "This is a grand place, but I know of a beautiful place near here, where a beautiful woman would look and feel magnificent, just being there would be the highlight of her life."

"So where is this place." Asked Juliette.

"It's in a vale just a short walk from here. Take my arm and I will take you there." Said Viscomte.

She wrapped her arm about his. Viscomte gently took her hand and kissed it as he led her down the hills. The vale was beautiful as he said, the grass was verdant green dotted with yellow sunflowers, a babbling brook flowed in sweet rhythm, the trees were dense, the bushes plush and best of all, it was private.

Juliette took a few moments to savour the surroundings as Valmont kept his eyes on her; she turned to him and they kissed.

The wolf tracks lead the two frontiersmen outside the park. Chingachook stopped for a second when the old tracks crossed a more recent set of tracks from the same beast; this trail lead into the forest and went along some low hilltops. The trees were getting more numerous and the bushes thicker, there were many places for a wolf to hide. A choice hilltop provided a good view of the immediate area; it was here that the Mohican hunter signalled his fellow trapper to stop and stay alert.

"Why are we stopping here." Asked Hawkeye.

Chingachook looked around scanning the area in a frustrating attempt to pinpoint a location in this foreign countryside.

"Be alert son." Warned the Mohican mentor. " The Beast is very near."


	8. Chapter 8

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Chapter 19**

Two figures eclipsing the warm sun, snapped Juliette to attention, she opened her eyes, having fallen half asleep after a session of erotic activity. She was naked; so was Viscomte de Valmont, who was still asleep. The intruders were two men with firearms and murderous looks.

Juliette's clothes were within reach along with her garter holster and pistol; she made a move to grab the latter but halted when the intruders' guns quickly aimed at her, a musket and a pistol.

"We missed you at Dijon Juliette." Said the Musket man. "Had you fled the country you just may have stood a chance; but no, we catch you here being the whore you are."

These were the two of the Seven Virtues, Juliette recognised Patience with the musket and Diligence with the pistol.

"Who sent you?" She asked.

"You can ask that question in Hell." Answered Diligence.

"Why so fast?" Juliette smoothed out the words. "You can take your time and enjoy this kill."

The naked target laid herself down invitingly on the grass then realised the two Virtues were not going to be tempted.

"After all." She added. "Your friend Humility enjoyed it immensely. He enjoyed it so much that it killed him."

"Bitch!" The two assassins spat in unison.

The expected sound of the guns firing at her was suddenly cut in by a horrendous growl from the bushes to the right. Patience and Diligence were stunned by the noise and turned to see a huge wolf enter the vale; it was monstrous,red eyed, black, big with drooling jaws of flesh ripping teeth. The two assassins bolted in blind panic and separate directions, completely forgetting their nearly achieved objective.

Red eyes focused on Juliette, the wolf had no interest in chasing the fleeing assassins. Reaching for her pistol, the League member realised this was the Beast of Gevaudan and it favoured women as a priority prey. Juliette was terrified but not helpless, over the years she had confronted the monstrous nature of mankind in many shocking states, she would not let the sight of this monster compromise her effort to survive. She knew the pistol would do little to stop this lupine fury, only anger it.

Viscomte was still asleep, when Juliette got to her feet she kicked him to wake the self gratifying aristocrat, he could decoy the Beast or serve as a human shield when it attacked, he awoke but was slow to rouse.

The Beast braced to pounce on the naked prey. Juliette had no time left to include Viscomte in her escape strategy; she braced her foot against a large rock and tensed it to act like a spring. Upon the instant the Beast pounced, Juliette sprung aside from the monster's attack path, the timing was crucial and she just made the dodge feeling the wolf's hot breath on her back; landing with balletic grace,she began a series of spritely, fast jumps across the brook. Vicomte de Valmont roused to a get a face full of wolf fur, the Beast turned to the waking male for a mutual stare, the aristocrat fainted as he felt the wolf's breath flood his senses adding to the shock of the vision.

Leaving the unconscious Valmont, the Beast began its pursuit of the naked female, who had just gained valuable seconds for her plight, bounding across the brook it began to gain on the spritely prey. Juliette rushed into a copse of densely planted thin trees hoping she could maneuver through them fast while they slow her large pursuer down. The nymph-like women's flight through the copse was fast but snapping and straining noises of the trees revealed that the wolf's speed was only mildly abated; it stampeded the obstacles, breaking them at the trunks with its vicious momentum and bending others aside with its large bulk.

A women wielding a knife was running around the edge of the copse, Juliette noticed her while in flight and realised she was trying to intercept her with intention to murder. The fleeing target realised this was Charity, one of the Seven Virtues and she was out for the kill that Patience and Diligence missed.

Juliette cursed under her breath, she had a big enough problem as it is without this; then realised that the assassin did not know about the pursuing wolf, otherwise she would have stood aside and let the Beast take her. A tactical change of direction sent the desperate prey to a chosen exit point, the Beast was so close, she half expected to feel the teeth enter her flesh; a trip or stumble right now would be fatal. Juliette exited the copse as timed, just before Charity's intercept, then swiftly cut right. The assassin was closing fast and would be on the naked target with a burst of speed, Charity raised her knife and let out a murderer's death cry that suddenly became a scream of terror and pain.

Huge jaws bit into Charity's side as the Beast exited the copse, seized the running assassin and shaking her to and fro. Charity managed a weak stab at the monster with a minor scratch resulting, the Beast threw her to the ground, pinned her down with its forepaws then bit into her knife arm. Juliette turned to see all clothing and skin get virtually ripped away from that limb to leave a bloody appendage of muscle, bone and dangling tendons; the knife dropped. Growls intensified as the wolf turned its primordial savagery on the screaming victim's belly, chest and throat; the unfortunate Virtue could only beat futilely at the Beast's side while her screams were cut by a gush of blood spurting out of her mouth. It would be over for Charity soon, Juliette deduced as she turned and fled the scene, realising it was best to do so before the Beast remembers its former prey.

An incline to narrow level ground got Juliette out of the vale to a track that winded between the many hills. A man with a sword had gotten of his horse, probably to investigate the screams.

"Your not getting away this time foul harlot." He said as he raised his sword.

Juliette recognised Kindness, another of the Seven Virtues; they must have been combing the hills looking for her after seeing her leave the park. Kindness was going to split her in two; she gave a kinky flex with her naked body then kissed the air in his direction. The assassin must have interpreted her cheeky actions as salutary acceptance of her fate, because he charged with raised sword. It was when Kindness got close that she brought out and levelled the pistol she had cleverly wedged between her buttocks as soon as she noticed the swordsman. The weapon fired the instant before the intended sword strike; at close range it hit the charging Virtue with lethal effect sending the sword falling limply to the ground.

It was after a short, sweet silence following her victory over the Virtues that the latter's horse began to fret with great unease. Juliette looked down into the vale to see the Beast had ceased mutilating Charity and resumed its pursuit of the former prey; it was picking up her scent and would soon be chasing her at great speed. There was no tree which she could climb; her only escape was the horse and it was in panic. Discarding her spent pistol, Juliette rushed to the steed; it began its frenzied flight just before she got there; hugging the moving equine neck, she placed her feet on a track-side rock and bounded onto the stallion's back. The canter became a gallop; Juliette did not unclasp her arms from the neck, lest she fall off, so groping for the reins was difficult and she was getting knocked about by the constant head movements.

Finally locating the loose reins, the naked rider seized them and sat up on the saddle to achieve some balance on the frantic steed. A savage growl from behind drew Juliette's attention to the Beast of Gevaudan, who was chasing with open jowls drooling the blood of its recent victim; the horse's panicked rush was quite justified; yet the wolf was gaining.

Hawkeye and Chingachook heard the savage growl from their hilltop and were soon looking down on the pursuit. Whatever concerns they had about why Juliette was naked on a horse were made irrelevant by the sight of the wolf chasing her; they had seen many wolves but nothing as big as this. Two hunters raised their muskets for a shot each at the monstrous predator; carefully taking aim, Hawkeye fired at the very instant both he and the Mohican were suddenly bowled over by a running stranger, the shot went wide.

The runner was called Diligence, though the frontiersmen didn't know that. Hawkeye did not get time to get back on his feet before the runner, who was in a state of blind panic, got stuck into him, grabbing his top and trying to throw him aside. A good wrestler and brawler, Hawkeye managed to hold his ground and push back the screaming interferer, who then made a move for his pistol. The brawling trapper let loose a well timed backhand that knocked the firearm out of the panicked hand; the other hand made a fist and slammed into Hawkeye's stomach; he keeled forward leaving him at the mercy of a knee lift that sent him sprawling backwards in a heep.

Chingachook had not recovered his still loaded musket, he rushed the berserk man hoping to restrain him. Diligence drew his knife, Chingachook brought out his tomahawk; after several feints, thrusts and swings between them, the Indian brave managed to knock his opponents blade out of his hand. The newly disarmed and uninjured hand made a quick circle and seized the Mohican forearm and yanked the Indian off balance; pivoting while bringing the seized arm over his shoulder, the assassin threw Chingachook over him to a nasty thud in the grass ahead.

Hawkeye was there a second later and delivered a fist into the stranger's face, followed by a kick that sent him backwards several feet to a fall that brought the assassin within reach of his lost pistol. Seizing the firearm, the still panicked stranger aimed at Hawkeye; the deadly instant ended, not with a pistol firing, but with a musket shot that hit the assassin's chest and thus Diligence, one of The Seven Virtues died.

The smoking musket was held by Chingachook who by coincidence was thrown to find himself within reach of his weapon. Both hunters were knocked about by the brawl, but before they could sit down and recuperate, they realised that both had missed their shot at the Beast and Juliette was in danger.

Juliette heard the first musket shot, but it came to no benefit and the Beast was still getting closer. The horse was at its top speed and no amount of panic would make it go faster. This track between the hills seemed to be never ending and the naked rider couldn't tell if she was heading back to the park or not.

A second musket shot went passed her towards the Beast, it veered aside after being only scratched; its momentum was slowed but was quickly regaining speed. The track was narrow and a low grassy embankment was on each side; a familiar sight of Prussian blue caught Juliette's eye.

As the wolf ran through the narrow defile a blue figure dropped onto its back and gripped its fur. The fleeing prey looked back from the horse to see Baron Munchausen riding the lupine terror, which was no longer focused on slaughtering her but baffled and furious at the arrogance of the human who was riding it. The horse continued on, its panic not yet abated.

Karl Munchausen seized the wolf by the ears so it could not turn its head and bite him; it tried to but the Baron's grip and strength kept the lupine snout pointing forward. The Beast suddenly halted its run, but M's legs clamped tightly on wolf's torso to prevent being thrown over.

Snarls of anger filled the air; the black furred horror began a motion to roll over, thus either crushing this unwelcome rider or forcing him to dismount. Munchausen predicted this move, while maintaining his strong grip on the wolf's ears, he nimbly removed himself from the saddleless back. The Beast only half completed the roll, the hold on its ears was limiting its actions, it wanted to turn and rip apart this arrogant soldier but the Baron kept its jowls pointing away. After getting back on its feet, the wolf tried some frenzied twisting, turning and buffeting to shake off this nuisance, but the calculating adventurer was always one step ahead of it and with the grace of a cavalry man, remounted the hostile steed.

Furious at being mounted again, the Beast bound into a run across the hills; Munchausen held on tightly to its ears and noted it was heading for low branch trees. The first attempt to knock the rider off was an oak branch, M bobbed down on the wolf's back and felt the branch scrape him; the second required the rider to lean far aside; only years of cavalry experience kept him from falling off. As the huge wolf passed under a pine tree the Baron saw his opportunity to end this ordeal; some of these branches were flexible. Grabbing a thin pine branch, Munchausen left the lupine back; the branch carried him forward then up, seizing another branch and then a series of them until his momentum was was spent, the adventuring soldier finished his miraculous escape high on a sturdy beam.

The Beast of Gevaudan stood on the hillside, disorientated at the surprise absence of its rider and frustrated that he was nowhere to be found, torn and rendered. The Baron looked down at the wolf from his safe perch and saw it run off due to a team of hunters appearing on a nearby hill.

"Well, this is one more tale for my adventures." He said to himself.

Juliette rode comfortably now that the horses fear was gone, so to was the Beast. The steed slowed to a trot and passed a troupe of adolescent schoolboys being led by monks. It was when Juliette noticed the shock reaction of the monks and the wondrous awe of the schoolboys that she remembered she was naked. With no attempt to cover herself, the Nymph like beauty shook her hair, made a few slinky movements and smiled at the pubescent class as the horse trotted on.

Concern over the consequences of her indecent exposure were nil. She was nearly mauled to death by the Beast of Gevaudan today, but she survived, with all her beauty for the world to see; it was amazing what Charity and Kindness could do.


	9. Chapter 9

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 20**

A new doorman opened the side entrance to Cagliostro's theatre and asked who was seeking entry?

"Jean Baptiste Grenouille." Said the knocker.

"Come in." Said the doorman. "You are favoured by the host."

The auditorium had been cleared of dead bodies and broken furniture from the battle last night, yet Jean could smell dried blood, burnt gunpowder and a residue of his knockout concoction. Cagliostro was on stage directing his crew in repairing all damage incurred, including re-threading and replacing curtains.

An ebullient Cagliostro welcomed Jean up onto the stage with open arms but the brooding perfumer was unable to meet this greeting with the affection expected of a Frenchman, he could barely manage a smile.

"What you did last night was fantastic Jean." Complimented the showman. "To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here today."

"If it pleases you I would like to use your backstage laboratory." Answered Jean. "I could make up some concoctions that could help The League and your stage show."

"Does that include more of that knockout concoction" Asked Cagliostro.

"Of course Graf, but this time a lot more enduring than the speedily made stuff produced last night."

Cagliostro granted Jean use of his laboratory but on condition that an apothecary watches over the activity to take written note of what ingredients were used, how much and in what way were they mixed; half an hour would go by before one arrives. Nell Bowen kept clear of the perfumer while he was waiting, she felt safer with all the lunatics in Bedlam than with this disturbing Frenchman.

Werner von Kempelen was backstage panel beating Olympia back into shape, Jean began to see similarities between the Hungarian inventor and himself. Here was someone making a woman of metal, while the perfumer had the idea of placing a woman in a bottle, well her scent at least; either creates a woman to be had at a press of a button.

Nell met Jean's gaze when he considered his idea of bottling a woman, she felt a heightened sense of horror with this eye contact and he was smelling her, she could tell, as if some fiendish design was being brooded on, she didn't know what it was but the English actress fled out the side exit for an indefinite leave.

"Well Jean." Said Werner as he finished work on Olympia. "What do you think of her?"

Olympia was lifted upright; a quick wind of her key followed by a pushed button, then the automaton opened her arms and closed them to embrace thin air.

"Well." Answered Jean. "You have smoothed out her dents admirably and silenced the squeaking gears, you can give her proper legs and eyes in future, but I value how something smells; with her I smell metal, paint and lubricant. If you want your doll to be realistic you must imbue her with the scent of a woman."

"Oh." Said Werner. "Can you copy the scent of a woman?"

"No." Answered Jean. " Nor can I capture the real scent of a woman, yet!"

The perfumer said that last word with a foreboding conviction.

"Tell you what I can do." Continued Jean. " I can make a perfume that would override Olympia's mechanical smell and give her the impression of a sweetly scented lady."

"Oh really. That would be nice and a dazzling contribution to the show, Jean."

When the apothecary arrived Jean began his work in the laboratory. The bespectacled supervisor was taking detailed notes while giving names to jarred substances that the perfumer new only by their distinctive smells. The mixing processes involved either stirring, shaking, simmering, boiling, filtering or a combination thereof. Jean filled several of his own perfume bottles; some big, some small; also a drink bottle of his knockout concoction was produced and a large conical flask was filled with another concoction.

Cagliostro was presented with the large flask; rather than explain its use Jean offered to demonstrate it with bellows and the crew as a sample audience. The crew took their seats as the showman requested, Jean poured a measure of the mystery concoction into the bellows and sprayed the auditorium with it. The crew barely noticed the fine spray, but were soon overcome with a group feeling of intoxicating mirth; smiles appeared on their faces, hums and moans of well being pervaded the seats.

The Graf went up to the perfumer and pinched both his cheeks gratefully.

"Jean Baptiste Grenouille you have once again astounded me. I can have some direct control over audience response with this. You will go far with that gift of yours Jean."

The knockout concoction was divided for the use of the League and the theatre.

"Well. " Said Cagliostro. "This should help deal with stage jumpers and hecklers."

Werner von Kempelen was given a perfume for use by Olympia.

His work finished, Jean said his farewells and left the theatre. Before returning to the Chateau de Lune, the perfumer stopped at the local abatoir to procure several pounds of animal fat. The coachman looked bemused by the latter stop, but said nothing and dutifully drove the Baron's guest back.

It was mid afternoon when the coach arrived and the perfumer was ascending the stairs after being told the Baron had not returned yet. Hopes for a peaceful afternoon tea were dashed when a walk through the courtyard placed Jean in the proximity of a waiting guest sipping on tea.

The guest stood up and made his greeting in English, then realising Jean's bafflement, changed to a broken French.

"Hello. Allow me to present myself, I am Guy Mannering. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Jean nodded, half grinned and stepped forward to receive a handshake, which went oddly as it finished Guy turned his hand over and looked at the Perfumer's palm. A look of dire gloom came over the Brit's face as he let the hand go.

"Shall I bring you afternoon tea here sir." Asked the valet.

Jean nodded affirmatively then handed his baggage over to a porter for delivery to his room. Sitting down with the surprise guest the two conversed.

"You must be Jean Baptiste Grenouille." Said Guy "You're on the Baron's list as a League member."

"You seem to know an awful lot about the League."

"I have Munchausen's confidence and have been asked to give advice. The Baron may be very self assured but knows the value of employing talented individuals like you."

"What is your talent?" Asked Jean.

"Like yours, I can evaluate a situation and determine its outcome; you can do so with your gifted sense of smell, by sensing oncoming danger; whereas I read the stars, they tell me what's going to happen."

Jean looked up to a hazy sky.

"There are no stars there now." Said the perfumer.

"These clouds will clear soon the night will see a most telling sky."

The sound of horses trotting reached their ears; the Baron's coach had arrived, Hawkeye, Chingachook and the Baron himself got out. Juliette appeared last and she was wrapped in a blanket, her clothes were nowhere to be seen.

M greeted Guy Mannering with his aristocratic charm then took the astrologer to his office for a private meeting. Juliette rushed to her room to get dressed. The other League members joined Jean for afternoon coffee, while they recounted their adventures throughout the day. Juliette came out with a new dress on and joined the courtyard revelry.

Now that all four League members had seen the Beast of Gevaudan they shared their descriptions and shock at its foreboding size and savagery. Jean and Juliette had a clear advantage here as they both came very close to being mauled by the monster. The two frontiersmen told how they came close to shooting and probably killing it, but where interrupted by a frenzied running man with a pistol. Juliette picked up that the interferer was Diligence, who was now dead; which means four of the Seven Virtues were dead and only three remained to menace her.

The Baron returned to the courtyard, after finishing with the astrologer, just in time for the doorman to announce another visitor. Munchausen motioned to bring the guest to the courtyard and offer refreshments. The guest was Redmond Barry, who was warmly welcomed by each member of the League as if he was a member.

Vivid descriptions of the Beast of Gevaudan were relayed to the Irishman, followed by graphic accounts of the League members' scrapes with the lupine horror. Juliette gave a partially accurate account of her recent ordeal; she was open about its approach when she was naked following an erotic encounter with a young aristocrat, but tactfully eluded any mention of The Seven Virtues.

M gave a discreet frown at her account, even though his contribution to her rescue was thankfully glorified. After receiving hourly updates on the police investigation into the matter of several fatalities in the hills, some by gunshot, the Baron had a few questions about the events of the day and thus ushered Juliette into his office for a private discussion. An hour later saw The League, including Redmond, together again in the rococo lounge where the Baron had his next, newly arrived, guest sent.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." Announced Baron Munchausen. "The last expected member of the League has arrived. The soldier and renegade I mentioned at our formation."

A knock was heard on the lounge room door. Everyone turned to the opening entrance, after M's invitation to enter. Jean could make out the odour of heather and thistle. The man who came in was tall, robust, middle aged and armed: a large scabbard held a claymore sword; a musket was held beside him and a pistol was tucked into his belt, which appeared to be so thick it could be a container.

The item of apparel that caught everyones' eye was the bright tartan sash the soldier was wearing; it was the tartan of clan Stewart.

"Hello Alan." Said M. "Everyone say Hello to Alan Breck."


	10. Chapter 10

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766**

**Chapter 21**

Alan Breck greeted each member of The League then, at the Baron's request, sat down and told the story of his delay.

It was the night before he was to receive M's summons that the highlander found himself prowling the streets and taverns of Calais for Dirk Hatteraick, a Dutch smuggler whose activities included transporting Jacobite exiles back to Scotland then selling them out to English authorities. Alan eventually spotted his quarry leaving a dive near the docks and began to follow.

Activity on the Calais docks was normal; evening lanterns lit up the wharfs with off duty sailors and dockers sitting around drinking and chatting, while some played cards on the top of upright barrels. Ships' watchmen and dockyard security were ever vigilant; there would be no chance for the vengeful Jacobite to make his move here.

Dirk Hatteraick continued his walk into a more notorious section of the docks, he was a smuggler and this was where their vessels would be moored. This actually suited Alan Breck well: true; his quarry was in his element here; but it was one of the best places to finish him off without alerting the city police, this was unofficially a law free zone.

Visibility became less, this was clearly a dark area. Alan had to be ever alert here, not only could he lose his quarry in the dark but his life as well, this part of the docks was a criminal drawcard. Sure enough while hiding behind a pier post to avoid Dirk's backward gaze; a click alerted the Jacobite to a rear attack; hurling himself aside he turned to see the garrote that was meant for his throat wrap around the pier post. A fast punch in the attacker's face sent him sprawling backwards. Alan got his knife out just in time to meet a second attacker, who came out of the shadows with a dagger poised to kill; the Scot blocked the stabbing arm with his, then seized the offending limb to yank the attacker off balance; while both arms were employed by the thief to break his induced stumble onto the pier, the highlander had no trouble slashing the varmint's jugular.

The thief with the garrote fled for his life; Alan did not pursue; he had to pick up the trail of Dirk Hatteraick, who by now could be aware of his stalker. Where the smuggler was last seen provided the right viewpoint to where he was now; Alan spotted him down a dimly lit cobblestone alley. A burst of speed sent the highlander rushing down the dark thoroughfare; this was the best place to finish Dirk Hatteraick's foul career.

If the smuggler was not aware of the shadow before, he was now and broke into a frenzied run; Alan would have got him had not the alley opened into a wide dockyard where Dirk was supported by two friends with swords; an extra seaman was swaggering about on the sidelines.

Alan had his claymore ready and engaged the three smugglers, he brought one down with a savage thrust within four seconds. Dirk and his remaining friend fought more cautiously, yet together they could not match the highlander's skill; so a double parry and quick lunge sent the second friend to his death. The smuggler stood his ground and Alan would have taken him had not the swaggering pirate joined the fight on Dirk's side. A loop and thrust seemed the right move to be rid of this seemingly drunk interferer but a well calculated parry and fine riposte, that was barely deflected, told the Jacobite that despite this pirate's swaggering demeanor he was a deft hand with the sword. A confident look befell Dirk Hatteraick, so confident that he disengaged, leaving the swaggerer to fight alone.

Dreadlocks hung out from the pirate's red bandanna, a coin decorating one of them. The face was a white composite of eye shadow, a moustache, several gold teeth and a goatee made up of two braids.

"So what do you think your doing here highlander?" slurred the pirate.

This buccaneer sounded wasted by too much rum as well as acting likewise, but not his swordplay, Alan found himself virtually outclassed by this swaggering pirate. A most frustrating obstacle this was, especially since Alan's quarry stood only ten feet away grinning.

"Ahoy matey. You beez needin' a hand there?" Said another pirate to the left.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Jacobite noticed a long red coat over a peglegged figure using a single crutch, he had no apparent weapons, so Alan kept his focus on the swaggering seaman he was fighting. The crutch swung up swiftly as the peglegged figure could flick it, connecting with Alan's head, the highlander collapsed in a heap, hearing the dreaded pirate laughter as he lost consciousness.

His hands were manacled; that was the first observation Alan Breck made as he regained his senses. It was just after dawn. He was in a small cage with both horizontal and vertical bars, his legs dangled out as he was seated on the base. The cage was hanging from a gibbet that was actually a hoist on the wharf where the ship was docked, standing before him on the poop deck were three pirates: the swaggering swordsman who engaged him; the peglegged figure who knocked him out; and a turbaned Indian with a scimitar.

"Ahoy maties." Said the peglegged pirate. "He beez comin' to. Who's for splittin' his gizzards?"

A mass roar of approval blared from a hoard of buccaneers who crowded the wharf and the ship's deck; all were from various crews and different parts of the world.

The pirate leader draw Alan's own claymore and was about to bid the hoist hands to move the cage closer when the swaggering swordsman called a halt to the venture in favour of handing the Jacobite over for an English bounty; this was booed away in favour of a ship wide baying for blood. It was the Indian who suggested that since we have him hanging from the gibbet, we lower him into the water and let the sharks do the bloodletting. This last suggestion was answered with a majority approval from the pirate audience.

Alan Breck had nothing to say to this cruel audience and tried futilely to free his hands from the manacles that were fastened to the cage. As the hoist moved the cage to the water's surface the crowd's jubilation became louder, most onlookers gulped much rum from flagons, bottles and flasks. A dorsal fin appeared on the surface, the crew had baited the marine horror with buckets of fish pieces.

A series of deep breathes prepared the highlander for submersion. The splash was sudden as the crew released the hoist. He was in a blue world with little visibility; Alan tried not to move lest the sharks become attracted to his plight, however the cage started shaking; the pirates were clearly moving the hoist to jiggle the bait as an invitation.

Strong arms could not free Alan from the manacles but they could lift him up of the cage base in an attempt to bring his dangling legs in; he began to make progress when he was lifted out of the water. He could breathe now but he knew this was a short relief. The rum soaked audience let out a group cry of mock disappointment.

"Well I'll be Damned." Yelled the Peglegged pirate. "The sharks aren't hungry today. Well I Happens to be a great ship's cook, so whattya say weez sweeten the pot. Let's start with some flour aye."

A bag of flour was hurled, by the self appointed cook, at the cage; it burst upon impact covering Alan with its contents. The maritime audience laughed.

"Next it be the sugar." Said the cook.

Sure enough another crew member threw a hand sized bag of sugar at the cage, it smashed against the bars and sprinkled Alan with its sweet crystals. Several ingredients were thrown in succession in a likewise manner; Indian spices, pepper; tomatoes, hurled on their own from various sources; and honey, thrown in a glass jar. The Jacobite was saturated with these sticky substances including burst tomatoes that hit him directly.

"And now." Said the peglegged cook. "A cherry on top."

A handful of cherries were hurled at the cage, Alan managed to catch one in his lap but with his hands manacled there wasn't much he could do with it. The crowd was uproarious; some even threw bottles of rum at the cage which doused the highlander, adding to his sticky saturation.

The cage was again lowered into the water. Alan felt the sticky condiments wash off then he began to lift himself off the base and bring his legs into the relative safety of the enclosure.

A shark came out of the blue and circled the Jacobite for a few seconds, it was huge, its enormous frame suggested it could fit several people in its belly, the jiggling caused by deliberately rattling the hoist, was its drawcard, it knocked the bars with its nose, turned away then with a swift return opened its mouth and seized the cage. The teeth caught on the bars, some near Alan's manacled hands, and shook the structure fiercely. A close look into the toothed maw revealed it could engulf a man completely and mulch him into a digestible pulp in seconds.

The structure began to buckle and collapse under this vicious attack. Alan could not hold his breathe long under this reign of terror. After threshing and ripping at the bars, the marine fury backed off to consider alternative attacks or a sustained repeat assault.

Alan felt the cage lift again out of the water, his lungs gasped for much needed air. Rivets and bolts were torn out, some just bent like the cage bars that met the shark's attack. A fourth pirate leader was visible on the poop deck, the enclosure was dangled before it again.

This new leader seemed to be pulling tufts of straw out of his sleeves and removing what looked like a priest collar away from his throat; the book in his coat pocket caught Alan's attention; was that a bible? Discussion with the other pirate leaders seemed to reach a consensus. The new leader addressed the crowd.

"Why should we let the sharks do what we so much enjoy doing ourselves? Today we shall take this man and several other prisoners to one of the Channel islets and hunt them down. There will be grand booty for those who bag themselves one of the blighters. So get yourselves ready for some real fun."

The buccaneer crowd gave a begrudged yet agreeing roar then began to disperse.

When the hanging enclosure was placed on the ship's deck, the swaggering swordsman offered Alan a few gulps of rum to calm his nerves. Alan settled himself down despite his remaining manacled in the cage; his next visitor was a familiar face who appeared quite abruptly, it was Berthold in pirate's clothing.

"I finally found you Herr Breck and in bad circumstances."

"What are you doing here Berthold?" Asked Alan.

"M sent me. The League is to meet at the Chateau de Lune in Gevaudan tomorrow morning. M wants you to report for duty there."

"I'm a trite indisposed right now Berthold as you can see. Can you help me escape?"

"I don't have the key, I don't know where it is; nor do the pirates let you out of their sight long enough for me to help.

In as little time as he could, Alan explained his fate to be hunted down on a Channel islet; if Berthold could get a boat to the right islet then he could help spirit him away from this pirate captivity, allowing him to join the League. This manhunt will happen tomorrow afternoon, the opportunity to liberate will not come till then.

Berthold was told to report Alan's predicament to the Baron and explain his late arrival, if at all. The speedy envoy must then return to aid the highlander in his escape. With a wish of good luck to Alan and a whoosh of wind Berthold was on his way back to Gevaudan, he would stop to sleep along the way.

Only one thing was of note to the Scottish rebel throughout the day, the sight of men wearing wolfskins having a word to the pirate leaders while pointing him out, Alan could make no sense of the distant negotiations but clearly heard the peglegged cook finally say to the visitors.

"Go on, get ya flea bitten hides off me ship. Come back and I'll give ya a real skinnin'."

The wolfskinned men departed and were not seen again. Near the end of the day the swaggering swordsmen offered Alan more rum; after accepting it the highlander fell into a deep sleep.

Flickering sails teased by a light wind was what the Scot rebel saw when his senses returned, he had been asleep a long time. The cage was gone but he was still clapped in irons; chains kept his hands together in front of him and were linked to his ankle manacles, so he had limited use of his hands and could not run.

An awkward hobble up the hatchway stairs to the deck revealed that the ship had left Calais and anchored of a Channel islet, it was just sand, rocks, trees and bushes. There was no rich green meadows like those of Jersey.

Pirates buffeted Alan off the deck into a lifeboat which was was rowed to shore. Corrals held several unfortunate captives who were designated as game to be hunted, the highlander was led to a post where his irons where locked to a mooring ring. He must have been regarded as special game to be kept separate from the others.

Buccaneer activity was basically either swimming at the beach or sitting around campfires consuming copious amounts of fish, roasted meat and rum; it was the latter that fired the cutthroats up for the hunt. Impatience born of intoxication had the pirate swarm lobby the captains for the hunt to commence. The Indian buccaneers did not touch any rum but were eagerly anticipating the event; they all stuck together like a fraternity.

Some captain tried to advise the lobbying crowd that with nightfall only an hour or two away it would be best to postpone the hunt till tomorrow morning, to start now would add difficulty should targets still be at large after dark, but the rum soaked crewman were forthright in that they wanted to start now.

"Ahoy maties." Bellowed the peglegged cook standing on a mound with a screeching parrot perched on his shoulder. "Weez can start now. Ayeee we'll have our fun, finish the miserable wretches off real quick and then weez party all night. Aye me hearties?"

"Aaargh". A general cheer rose up from the pirate crowd; muskets were collected and armed, cutlasses were drawn, knives sharpened and powder horns filled. The corrals were opened the human game fled into the bushes, most were in sailor's apparel, probably crewman from plundered ships. A master at arms came and unlocked Alan's irons then motioned him to run for his life, the Jacobite swiftly obliged.

Trees, brush and rocks, with the occasional bush were all that made up the islet's landscape: the trees were pitifully thin and weak, providing next to no cover; the brush was profuse and matted, it could provide a hiding spot to anyone who digs underneath and pulls out several hundred roots; the rocks included many small ones that could be thrown; the bushes provided too obvious a cover, they would be death traps.

The Islet's far shore was reached after only twenty minutes travel time. A cannon shot heard ten minutes ago must have been the signal to start the hunt; Alan was running out of time. Two short sand hills provided a brush covered gap, this seemed to be the best hiding place available, unless the pirates stepped on it. The highlander tore off a tree branch to use as a club then collected some choice throwing rocks before getting into his brush cover. He had hid from redcoats in highland heather, so he could do likewise with pirates here and hold out until dark.

Views of the surrounding area could be attained by parting the thick stems to make peepholes. An unwise sailor was spotted hiding in the light canopy of a tree, it wasn't long before the hunters also saw him and fired their muskets, bringing him down. In the distance buccaneers prodded a bush with swords and pikes, sure enough two unfortunates fled the hiding place but didn't get far before being shot and hacked to death. Loud screams were heard from various directions and all followed by murderous roars of victory from pirates.

Four corsairs came close to the Jacobite's hiding place, some were drinking from flasks while stalking; all walked over the neighbouring sand hills rather than between them. Alan kept very still, they were so close he could touch them; one looked as if in a drunken stupor he was going to stumble over to the next mound, straight over the hiding spot. The highlander readied hid makeshift weapons, then a cry of alarm jolted the intoxicated corsair towards the beach.

Through a tear in the brush Alan could see a party of fugitives fleeing another hunting party, now there were two on them. Musket fire from both directions brought most of the unfortunate sailors to their death or injury on the sand; all pirates drew their cutlasses and moved on the now trapped or wounded survivors; it was over fast and the murderous roar of victory filled the beach.

The hunt moved away, allowing Alan to stay hidden until night, he would wait till pitch dark before moving. Only one search party came close to his hiding place after nightfall, they were carrying torches and lanterns but didn't see him.

"Come on." Said a pirate. "He's got to be somewhere. No way is he going to swim through that there surf."

So, Alan was the only one left and every murderer who cared to go out in the night will be hunting for him. The festivities may even be postponed until the hunt was complete, these pirates must hate the Scot who should have been fed to a shark.

Pitch dark allowed the Jacobite to leave his hiding place and observe the location of each hunting party in the area because of their lanterns and torches. Alan picked out the most isolated of these groups and moved towards it.

Four cutthroats made up the party, two with firearms; they were prowling the bushes and brush while angrily speaking of visceral cruelties for their quarry once they find him. They must have been looking forward to the all night festivities. A straggler stepped behind a sand hill to take a secret drink from his flask, within three seconds Alan was clenching his throat in a vice like grip with a muscular forearm, though he struggled the pirate silently succumbed.

Alan now had a cutlass and a dagger. Another cutthroat ventured around the sand hill to check up on his shipmate, he raised his lantern but saw nothing as sand was thrown into his eyes; a motion for his pistol ended when a sword was driven through his chest. The two remaining buccaneers approached the mound, Alan darted out and fired the stolen pistol at the musket bearer, the shocked fourth cutthroat reached for his now dead shipmates firearm, it only took a couple of seconds, but before he could level it a sword strike disarmed him, severing two fingers in the process; a painful cry for help never reached his mouth due to a swift cutlass opening his throat.

The highlander preferred his claymore but the cutlass will have to do for now; he also had a dagger, a musket, a pistol and powder horns for reloading. Taking a lantern was too dangerous he needed to be invisible; the other hunting parties will have heard the pistol shot and be converging on this spot; Alan, now armed, fled into the darkness.

Moonlight was illuminating the beaches, this was unfortunate because that's where the Jacobite needed to be if he was going to find a boat he could row back to the mainland; he knew which direction to take as it was visible during the day. The bushes and brush that rimmed the beach would be his travel path, that way he could spot any boat while staying hidden. It was along this path that he found two dead pirates; how they died was not clearly visible but the dim light of their fading lantern revealed an interesting feature on one's chin, a bruise in the shape of a skull.

It was further down the track that Alan noticed a bonfire of buccaneer revelry, some pirates were not waiting for news of the last man to be hunted down. A boat could be seen on the beach beyond the camp, so bypassing this premature party via the dark inland bushes was essential. Darkness served the Jacobite fugitive well, the pirates weren't alert at all; songs, dance and rum kept their attention.

A muffled cry followed by a series of rough blows were heard in the blackness nearby; Alan froze, nobody around the bonfire seemed to notice until a fright struck Indian ran into the camp and screamed a desperate warning in his own language. Alan only knew a scarce few words of the Hindi tongue, but made out two words from the panic rantings: they were "ghost" and "walks". Several Indians in the camp suddenly got to their feet and joined the desperate ranter in flight.

Befuddlement kept the camp quiet for a few seconds until a large buccaneer began to call for action; wether this was for continued festivity or a search of the area will not be known; a crossbow bolt, shot from outside, suddenly lodged in his forehead. The remaining dozen campers quickly picked up their weapons and formed a back to back circle around the bonfire. Alan dared not move, now that they were alert, the pirates would see him. A lobbed parcel appeared out of the dark and landed neatly in the bonfire. An explosion from the burning centre sent the ring of buccaneers hurling outward in various directions, some were engulfed in flames instantly, others were either unconscious or crippled by the blast. The hurled package was obviously a gunpowder bomb.

Only three pirates showed any ability to get up and engage the enemy; Alan noticed a shadow detach itself from the surrounding darkness and set upon one of the recovering revellers, blows and agonised yelps told much. Two pirates began to slowly get to their feet, they were facing Alan; the highlander rushed them, one tried to level his musket but a sword knocked it out of his hands, the next swing disembowlled him; the other had his cutlass but was too stunned by the blast to use it, a Jacobite lunge finished him off.

There was no sighting of the unknown pirate killer, the shadow had melted back into the darkness. The boat was were Alan wanted to get to, he left the charnel campsite and proceeded there. Providence had removed his main obstacle to salvation, it filled the rebel Scot with a profound confidence in his own rescue, the beach looked unguarded so the first few steps were taken in the moonlit sand.

A shrill whistle brought the highlander's attention to a lifting canvas in the beachside brush, it revealed six pirates waiting in ambush, the wait was over; they all had weapons, some had firearms levelled at him.

"Well, what did I say." Said one of the pirates. "I knew he would come here to get the boat. First we're can shoot him, then stab him and then we're going to get mean."

While the ambushers were listening to their leader, a swift streak of disturbed sand approached them, a lot of beach sediment shot up into the air in its wake, it whipped past the surprised team so fast that suddenly they were doused with it, all had to wipe their faces and spit the crystaline substance out of their mouths. What really mattered was that those readied weapons were no longer in the pirate's hands, they had been snatched by the streaking entity.

Alan realised that the buccaneers were not the only ones waiting for his arrival, Berthold had been hiding in the vicinity to counter their ambush. The hunted fugitive fired his musket, sending one disarmed pirate to the afterlife, a shot from his pistol made another follow. Four blades were unsheathed, the remaining ambushers positioned themselves to attack Alan from front and back simultaneously. A second streak of disturbed sand passed behind two of the enemy, they quickly fell to their knees in great pain, Berthold had hamstrung them.

The Jacobite dropped his spent firearms and with a flick of his wrist sent his dagger flying into the throat of a standing pirate; the other, being stripped of his advantages, tried to run away; with a few strides, the highland warrior was on him and with a stroke of the cutlass finished him. After seeing the fiendish hunt and the cold blooded slaughter of human game, Alan had no qualms about killing the disadvantaged hamstrung pirates and did so with scant trouble.

Sand streaked up to the triumphant Scot and stopped short of him. Berthold was still in his pirate disguise and carrying the snatched weapons.

"Thank you Berthold. I am most grateful. They nearly got me there. Did you bring that boat?" Asked Alan pointing at the vessel on the waterline.

"That I did Herr Breck." Answered Berthold. "The Baron wanted me to do whatever I can to help you out; so I found out which islet that ship took you to, raced to Cherbourg, which is only an hour or two rowing time from here, got a boat and brought it here. I knew you would survive the hunt, then comb the coastline looking for one. The ambushers arrived shortly after I arrived which was just before dark, they hid themselves, so I also hid and waited for you to show."

"Well done Berthold, the Baron's faith in you is well placed. We must take the boat and leave now; the night lights of Cherbourg will guide us to the mainland. How late am I for the assembly of the League?"

"A day so far, it assembled this morning, by the time you get to Gevaudan you will be a day and a half late."

One day, at that moment Alan realised he had been asleep for a whole day after he drank obviously drugged rum then woke up in the ship's hold on the Channel islet.

"Berthold." Said the late League member. "Place the weapons in the boat and launch it into the water. I will grab some provisions and join you in a minute."

Munchausen's loyal servant moved to the vessel with his load of snatched weapons. Alan Breck went to the canvassed hiding spot to grab some beef jerky, rum and a lantern, then strode across the moonlit beach to the rocks that flanked the boat.

A yelp of shock cut short by a thumping sound, then a thud caught the highlander's senses, he was over the rocks in an instant, shone his lantern onto the scene to see Berthold knocked out next to the boat. The dark figure standing over Berthold was tall and muscular wearing short black breeches over a skin tight purple body suit that covered all except his hands and face. A black masquerade mask prevented any facial recognition of the dark figure, all that was revealed was a stiff look of cast iron resolve. Appearing on the masked man's right hand fingers was a ring with an engraved skull face, now Alan knew where the skull shaped bruises came from. As Alan stared in dumbfounded stupor at this figure, it returned only a short look before melting into the rock shadows.

Realising Berthold was attacked because he was dressed like a pirate, the Jacobite felt no danger from this pirate slayer. Berthold was lifted into the boat along with the weapons, provisions and lantern, Alan pushed the small vessel out into the water, got in and proceeded his rowing towards the mainland; it was reached in two hours.

Some people on the Cherbourg marina helped the Scot lift Berthold out of the boat and carry him to hospital, he had a concussion and would be bedridden for several days. One thing that was notable on the speedy messenger's chin was a fresh bruise in the shape of a skull. Alan left Berthold in the hospital's care and chartered a night coach to Calais; he arrived in the morning.

Having lodgings far from the docks kept the highlander's mind away from returning there, he would go after Dirk Hatteraick another day, right now he had to join Baron Munchausen and The League. A change of clothes was in order with the tartan sash of Clan Stewart adorned proudly, a portmanteau was packed and the spare claymore brought out in favour of the cutlass. Alan Breck took his luggage to the coach and began his trip to Gevaudan.

Hawkeye, Chingachook, Redmond, Juliette, Jean and the Baron Munchausen finished listening to the story with sheer amazement. To survive such an ordeal certainly justified his presence among the League, his lateness seemed insignificant since he was lucky to be alive and hence here at all.

M drew everyone's attention to the time and told everyone to prepare for the party at the chateau of the Marquis de St Evremonde.


	11. Chapter 11

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 22**

Tall cast iron gates creaked open for the Baron's two coaches, the passengers noted the ragged peasant's wandering about outside the chateau's high walls, which appeared to have been specifically built to keep the rabble out. After entry the gates promptly closed. Hawkeye noted the many faces that stared between the bars of the gate to the pristine interior; they were all ragged peasants, their faces included those that were filthy, hungry and angry. Children were also among the bitter onlookers.

The inside grounds were a verdant picture of well manicured hedges, plush flower beds and many cherub statues atop high pedestals. A wigged footman greeted Munchausen's entourage as they alighted from the coaches. All guests were well groomed and in brilliant attire, even Chingachook was persuaded to wear a an ornamental variation of his buckskins. Alan Breck, resplendent in his tartan kilt, took Juliette's hand and followed the footman into the main lounge, Munchausen, Hawkeye, Chingachook, Redmond and Jean Baptiste trailed.

It was late afternoon and the chateau looked a like a grand mansion similar to the Chateau de Lune but without the moon motifs or the large outdoor steps to the upper floors. Mahogany furniture with frames blazoned in gold filled the lounge, their cushions were velvet with rich embroidery. Baroque paintings of people in passionate union adorned the walls and a large candlelight chandelier dominated the ceiling.

A whisper in the ear by the footman to the host had the latter wheel about to greet his guests. St Evremonde was about forty, handsomely dressed and with a face like a fine mask of transparent paleness beneath a plush wig.

"Well Hello." Said the Marquis. "My what a cosmopolitan bunch we have here and all in their own way dazzling. Welcome to my chateau all of you and may you partake of the party atmosphere with grand merriment."

Munchausen went through local greeting with the aristocrat, that of kissing both cheeks, then introduced his entourage one by one; the Marquis complimented each one, though with Juliette he seized her hand and kissed it ravishingly.

Their were many guest already present, the League members dispersed and began to mix with the crowd. Many servants manoeuvred through the party with trays or platters; wine stewards, waiters and pages; large fan holders stood next to couches and cooled the over dressed women. Glasses of both red and white wine appeared regularly on hand held trays, a smorgasbord of bakery delicacies and orderves filled the table tops, while some of the latter was also carried around on trays.

When Juliette individually mixed with the party guests she became a magnet for male attention; her dress had strips of bright red while displaying a pulsating cleavage and a risque measure of bare shoulder. A sweet fragrant perfume supplied by Jean Baptiste added to the courtesan's ample lure. One loud and forthright guest was the Marquis de Praille who dominated the male attention towards Juliette, he spoke as if he wanted to possess her; the wily courtesan placated him with promises of future encounters that would please him. In time the loud Marquis left her company to pursue other women, Juliette could tell there were many courtesan's mingling in the scene, most likely ring-ins commissioned by St Evremonde to spice up his party.

An Englishman approached Juliette speaking good French and vocalising with smooth ease, unlike the loud Marquis de Praille, he had a good figure and fine clothes, introducing himself as Squire Thornhill. All the common genteel topics of conversation were discussed and Juliette found them quite engaging. The subject of marriage worked its way into the conversation, where the Squire claimed he was not wed and matrimony with a beautiful woman like Juliette would be fortuitous for both. Juliette began a frenzied giggle at the Squire, who obviously didn't know about her, his demeanor changed from pleasant to rough. Fierce hands clutched the woman's forearms and pulled her in to Thornhill's lips.

"Married to me or not." Blurted the Squire. "I will have you, for as long as I deem fit."

An upward sweeping motion of Baron Munchausen's arm put an end to Thornhill's hold on Juliette. The refined soldier stood between the two and faced the Squire.

"So you're Squire Thornhill are you?" Said the Baron. "The villainous rake who seduces young girls in the English countryside with fake marriages, takes them to London and then abandons them to a life of prostitution."

Thornhill pulled off one of his gloves, but when he looked into eyes of the confident German soldier he backed off and re-donned his glove, realising he wouldn't last one minute in a duel with Munchausen. Juliette embraced the Baron kissed him several times before he tore himself loose and lost himself in the crowd.

Jean Baptiste Grenouille positioned himself near a group of women, a focused eye would have noticed that he was sampling the personal scent of each person; Juliette had such an eye, and felt relieved that the perfumer's attention was elsewhere. The women noticed Jean and welcomed him into their circle where he began to demonstrate his perfumes to a captive audience.

Redmond Barry took a glass of red wine from the tray of an approaching steward only to find it seized and placed back on the tray.

"Keep your wits about you Redmond." Said the Steward.

It was Karl, the Prussian spy had infiltrated the Chateau staff as a wine steward. Fritz appeared next to Karl carrying a tray of orderves.

"Try the food, it's good." Said Fritz. "But don't have any wine. We have spotted Fernand Wagner in the chateau grounds, he's a gardener here; we will make our move on him tonight; when the time comes we will signal you and you must excuse yourself and join us in our duty."

"We could finish this mission tonight." Added Karl "So you must be sober and ready for action. Do you understand?"

Redmond nodded in acceptance and helped himself to some orderves. The two Prussians resumed their servant roles.

Hawkeye and Chingachook settled in a smokers lounge and talked to seated Frenchmen of the wild life in the American wilderness. Chingachook had little trouble with the French language, the problem was he managed this by imagining he was Huron, a tribe he hated. Hawkeye's handling of French met with occasional tittering, he wasn't getting the language fully right; perhaps he should pretend he is Huron; no, he was having enough trouble pretending to be an Indian.

A page boy told Baron Munchausen that an associate was waiting for him upstairs on the middle balcony. The party had expanded beyond the lounge to the upper floor, some people even chatted on the large staircase as the Baron went up. It was late twilight on the marble balcony and the darkening sky revealed its stars. Guy Mannering was on the balcony reading those stars.

"Good Evening Baron." He said.

Munchausen returned the greeting and inquired as to the astrologer's reading of the stars.

"Look at the stars and the Earth Baron, for neither will be as they are if this evil goes unchecked for much longer. This sorcerer Joseph Curwen is close to unleashing an ancient force that will shake the entire cosmos like sand in an hourglass. You have to stop him Baron; I mean get him and soon. The Beast of Gevaudan is nothing more than a pet created through Curwen's infernal communion with dark omnipotent beings whose realms of existence have been brought dangerously close to ours. The stars speak of universal apocalypse with just a narrow avenue of salvation; that's you and your League Baron, you must succeed."

"My League has showed itself to be worthy." Said Munchausen. "Though Joseph Curwen remains elusive we will track him down and put a stop to this evil, you can be assured of that."

Guy Mannering simply gave a curt nod then resumed his examination of the firmament's grim portents. The German aristocrat charged with saving not just the Earth but the cosmos, walked back towards the party stopping to view a marble statue of Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders, a heavy and painful burden.

Alan Breck had much call to resent wearing the Kilt to this gathering, a lot of French men burst out in laughter at the sight of it, a few woman giggled at what they figured was a dandy in a tartan dress; but the highlander decided to bare this abuse till the day kilts were worn outside Scotland with respect.

A fellow Scot with a personal Indian manservant approached the Jacobite and called him by name. The fine silk threads and near regal bearing made recognition slow but Alan eventually remembered a fellow warrior at the battle of Culloden Moor twenty years ago.

"James Durie, the Master of Ballantrae."

It wasn't only that they were both Scots, Jacobites or fighters at Culloden, there was something indefinable that bonded the two, they embraced each other as if they were long lost brothers.

James introduced his Indian manservant, Secunda Dass who followed his Scottish master around like a shadow. The two Jacobites then sat down and talked of their lives over the last twenty years. James revealed that he had been a pirate in the Atlantic, an explorer in the Americas, a wealthy exile in France and a Maharajah in India where he acquired the loyal service of Secunda Dass. Recent years had seen James Durie back in Scotland contesting the title, Master of Ballantrae with his brother until the latter fled to America.

Alan told of his years as an active rebel in Scotland, giving an rough account of an adventure he had with a kidnapped teenage heir; battling the crew of a treacherous ship then once he got to land nearly got hung for the murder of an English overlord.

Redmond Barry had titillated several French women with his open Irish accent, perhaps his fortune hunting endeavers would find a bounty among these aristocrats. The Irish opportunist settled his efforts on a stoic looking women whose dress, make up and ornamentation suggested great wealth; she found him amusing at first, her title was Marquise de Merteuil. After apparently pleasant conversation and routine head nodding, the rogue spy; trained by the Prussian secret service to read people; detected a bitter malevolence hiding beneath the aristocratic woman's veneer of conformity and stereotype. Redmond wound down the conversation in the nicest way possible and backed off into the party crowd.

Jean Baptiste Grenouille went to the middle balcony in accordance with the page's message, Guy Mannering was there staring up into the starlit sky yet it wasn't quite night yet.

"Greetings Jean." Said the astrologer. "Thank you for coming. I have taken an interest in you since we met."

For someone who had dark secrets and foul deeds and designs to cover up, this was an unwelcome announcement.

"Why? I am just a perfumer."

"A gifted man with a grand design." Guy turned and faced Jean. "You have taken leave of that destiny to be part of this mission and for that I thank you."

Jean fidgeted anxiously; if not for the thanks he would have terminated the conversation and left the balcony. Nobody knew of his grand design.

"I don't care to know what that grand design is Jean." Guy continued. "I have read your future in the stars. Jean, you have the ability to create a splendid and prosperous future for yourself, but you must not complete this grand design, it will destroy you."

The perfumer decided not to explain that his scents gave him impulses that drew him to complete his chosen destiny; if that path were closed to him he would just lay down and die with or without smallpox. Jean's characteristic secretiveness got the better of him and asked for explanation of this dire prediction.

"It's written in the stars Jean, you will achieve your grand design; but it will not deliver happiness nor a sense of triumph, it will bring misery, sheer abject depression, and then, oblivion."

Juliette skillfully juggled her many admirers; their efforts to dominate her attention was simultaneous and competitive. A hand grabbed her arm and drew her away from the fawning aristocrats.

"I'll give her back. I promise." Said Viscomte de Valmont as he ushered Juliette to a private corner.

Valmont did not appear to be physically marked by his encounter with the giant wolf, she hadn't seen him since then.

"That was bold Viscomte." Said Juliette. "Don't you think you should stand in line after half the men in this chateau."

"I am just letting you know that the wolf didn't hurt me, I was so close I touched it, and the Beast breathed into me; yes I felt its essence enter me and become a part of me. From now on, I am going to do what the Beast of Gevaudan does, I'm going to prey upon women; in my own way of course. Much like the way I preyed upon you."

"Your'e going to end up being gutted in a duel or shot by an angry husband Viscomte, so enjoy the time you have and excuse me."

The beautiful courtesan fluttered back to her male admirers and resumed her centre of attention position. A view between the shoulders of her male flock showed the scrutinising stare of one of Valmont's female associates, the Marquise de Merteuil, who witnessed his recent exchange in the corner. Juliette had only shared a brief few words with the Marquise, but it was enough to tell that behind that stoic women's stare was a vindictive, calculating mind.

It was after much sifting, filtering and promises of future attention that Juliette had chosen her man of the hour, he was James Durie: it wasn't that he was a ruggedly handsome Scot like Alan Breck; not that he claimed to be master of a grand estate in Scotland; nor that he had an exotic manservant who had his own level of appeal; it was the stimulating wisdom he learnt while a Maharajah in India.

James Durie would monopolise Juliette's attention by talking about neotantric sex practices; how they would cultivate an ecstatic consciousness and increase spiritual awareness of erotic consciousness that pervaded her gifted body. The dazzled woman would take the engaging Scot, who spoke perfect French, aside and keep him with her in a corner while his manservant would form a one man barricade against gatecrashers.

Once the woman was hooked, the ex Maharajah would excite her with juicy quotes from the Kama Sutra, tactically including words in Sanskrit. When Juliette would ask for definition of these strange words, James would give a detailed account of an erotic act, which would have her rubbing her own thighs in keen anticipation. The potential of achieving expanded orgasm was thrown in for good measure.

Hawkeye noticed an old friend in a room lined with trophy animal heads, the French Canadian farmer and hunter was picking the best wall space for a future trophy.

"Francois Leroy." Greeted Hawkeye. "Must I cross the ocean to see my friends from home."

"Nathaniel." Returned Francois. "Are they so desperate to kill the Beast that they take from America their best hunter?"

"Two best hunters Francois."

The French Canadian began to feel complimented until Hawkeye continued his answer.

"Chingachook came along." He paused. "So we have the best of America and Canada here."

Taking a seat, the two trappers talked about their lives over the last eleven years and how they lasted through the French Indian War. Francois Leroy gave a particularly strong account of how he was at Fort Ticonderoga when it was attacked by Indian allies of the French. Whatever national loyalty Francois had to the French, it was destroyed before that, when those Indian allies killed his wife. It was only now, after the war, that the Canadian hunter saw fit to serve France.

After hearing of Hawkeye's adventures during the war, Francois explained that he was commissioned by the Marquis de St Evremonde to organise tomorrow's wolf hunt. A space on the trophy wall was pointed out to Hawkeye.

"This is where the Beast of Gevaudan's head will be."

Baron Munchausen presented a coin to the page who delivered Guy Mannering's message, the boy, who was about eight years old, accepted the tip and placed it in his pocket.

"I hear you are a soldier Sir. A good soldier?" Asked the boy.

"Why yes lad, I've been a soldier for over twenty five years and one of the best."

"I'm going to be a soldier when I grow up, one of the best, like you."

"And what name is this brave and mighty soldier going to have?" Asked the Baron.

"Loup, Guy Loup. I'm going to be a General."

"Well then I should drink a toast to the soldier of the future."

Champagne seemed appropriate, but as the Baron reached for a wine stewards passing tray, the boy tugged his coat.

"I could get you a glass of tokay." Said Guy "That's better than champagne."

"Going above and beyond the call of duty." Said Munchausen. "OK. You will make a fine soldier some day."

Guy Loup left saying he will be back soon. A mild crowd filled the lounge and much chatter filled the air. The Baron noticed Guy Mannering leaving the premises with a look of disappointment; to M's left, along the wall about forty feet away, he saw Chingachook and Jean conversing; and on the far wall the two Prussian spies dressed as servants were discussing something clearly of dire importance.

"Here you are Sir." The page boy returned with a glimmering long stemmed glass of tokay, which Munchausen accepted gracefully.

"To the fine soldier you will be." Toasted the Baron as he raised the glass. "General Guy Loup."

Bringing the glass to his mouth, the Baron opened his lips to receive the fortified wine, that's when the crystal receptacle exploded, splashing M's face with shards and alcohol. A tomahawk had thudded into the wall near the soldier's head it had passed between his fingers and face destroying the glass, Chingachook had thrown it.

"Baron." Alarmed Jean. "Don't touch that tokay, I smell arsenic in it."

A general shock brought everyone in the lounge to a stunned silence. Jean rushed to the Baron, grabbed a table napkin and began to wipe the face of the stunned Munchausen. After spitting whatever fluid or glass shard that entered his mouth into the napkin M turned to face Guy Loup only to find him gone.

Marquis de St Evremonde demanded to know what was going on, but a cryptic signal from the recovering Baron Munchausen placated him, even the sight of an inappropriate tomahawk lodged in his wall elicited a minimal scowl at Chingachook. Party fever returned to the ebullient host who promptly appealed the crowd for a return to festive status.

M realised that the drink was poisoned by Guy Loup. Jean smelled the tokay, from a distance because it was an unusual scent for the party, and the arsenic, which was extremely out of place here. When the perfumer isolated the deadly scent in the glass Munchausen was toasting with, there was too much noise to yell a warning and too little time to run through the obstructing crowd and stop him drinking from it. A quick instruction from Jean to the Mohican warrior had Chingachook promptly find a clear trajectory to the Baron then hurl his tomahawk in such a way that it shatters the glass without harming Munchausen or those around him.

"Wolf." Said M. "I just trusted a boy whose surname Loup, means wolf. And how did he know I drank tokay?"

Redmond Barry took advantage of the distraction in the lounge to slip away from present company; he had just received the signal from Fritz and Karl. The two Prussian spies had dispensed with their serving trays and ushered Redmond to the side garden entrance. It was nightfall, the crickets began their nocturnal chant under the grounds illuminated by candlelight lampposts. Karl took a stashed musket, Fritz reached into the hiding spot and took a crossbow, he handed the Irishman a dagger and a lantern.

"He's here." Said Karl. "Fernand Wagner is here in this garden, we just noticed him lighting lampposts. There is no one else in this part of the grounds and no overlooking balcony; this is our chance. Although I have a firearm we best get this done without using it, it would bring too much attention."

"We each have our daggers." Added Fritz. "So if my crossbow misses we chase him till we get him."

Redmond nodded and began to follow Fritz's lead. A few steps into the garden, the stalking spies braced for an approaching presence coming out of the bushes, it was a page boy.

"You're not supposed to be out here." Yelled Fritz, exploiting his adult servant status. "Get back inside."

"Yes Sir." Answered the boy.

A brief look up at the night sky followed by a malign half grin at the three men and the kid ran towards the door. As the spies proceeded, Redmond alone looked back to see the boy had actually cut left from the door and was running towards the tradesmens' entrance at the perimeter wall.

"We keep going." said Fritz. "He's to small to be listened to."

Karl led the stalkers to the gardener's shed, just in time to see a figure approach it through the bushes, as it came out Redmond darted forward and shone the lamp at a man holding a ladder, it was Fernand Wagner. Fritz fired his crossbow, only to see the bolt lodge in the ladder's wooden rung. Startled, the gardener dropped his ladder and fled into the bushes; each of the three spies drew their daggers and gave chase.

Candle lamps lit up the night garden but there were many dark shadows, corners and bushes to hide in. Pursuing the ruffling of vegetation seemed the best way to catch up with the fugitive; they could not split up as Redmond had the only lantern. A path had the three stalkers stopping to scan the garden ahead for their quarry. Further illumination came as the full moon came out of its cloud cover and cast its light on the grounds; this revealed discarded clothing on the flower beds, which for some reason Fernand was shedding.

Karl ordered a split up, telling the Irish agent to cover the garden's left, he will take the right while Fritz, who had dropped his spent crossbow, will approach the centre; although Redmond still held the lantern, the ample moonlight made it unnecessary. The left end of the garden was made up of trees, ferns and earthwork retaining walls, it was on top of the highest of these that Redmond saw Fernand Wagner wearing nothing but a loose night shirt. Hide and ambush was not an option for the man with a lantern, he was noticed quickly by the German deserter, who was strangely twitching and convulsing.

"Go away you fool." Yelled Fernand awkwardly through his twitches. "You don't know Whaaaaaa." The word became a howl.

Redmond began to rush Fernand, but the apparently mad fugitive fled back to the centre.

Climbing the retaining walls were slowing the Irish pursuer down, so he yelled out an alert to the others.

"I've seen him, he's running into the centre."

Atop the second highest retaining wall, Redmond gave chase hoping he and Fritz will surround their quarry. Although his lantern's light was focused down, lest Wagner double back on him, the Irishman spotted the discarded nightshirt on the uppermost level.

"He's here." Yelled Fritz. "I've got him."

A brisk run brought the Irish spy close to the source of Fritz's cry

"Oh my God!" The Prussian shrieked out in horror.

Then the screams began, coupled with savage animal growls of such shocking ferocity that they drowned out the human cries. Redmond cast his lantern light on a dark patch of grass on the ground level; Fritz was dead, his throat ripped out, his eyes stuck in a look of terror. That which was mauling his chest and stomach was a monstrous figure of a wolf standing on its hind legs, pointing its jowls to the sky while they shredded and devoured internal organs torn from the victim. The lupine figure dropped on all fours to further mutilate Fritz, then it's attention shifted to the lantern.

In this instant of mutual awareness, Redmond wanted to know if this was the dreaded Beast of Gevaudan and where was Fernand Wagner. The creature pounced up the retaining walls one by one; Redmond new flight would only buy seconds and his dagger would do little, he had only one reasonable defence. A swinging motion of the lantern sent it smashing into the lupine ferocity as it reached the level beneath. The burning oil saturated the wolf's fur, while the impact knocked the beastly figure off the level into a hurtling tumble down the retaining walls to the ground. Flames covered the wolf as it shook in frenzied convulsions of agony while emitting a sharp howl that would have acoustically carried to indoors piercing the party atmosphere in the chateau. Whether by wisdom or frenzied movement, the creature's pressing itself against the ground extinguished the flames; the Irish rogue knew it would be after him again.

Running along the wall had Redmond looking desperately for a haven, no tree seemed to offer an easy climb. At the end of the earthworks was an obelisk with a Cupid statue on top. The pain crazed wolf thing was bearing down on the Irishman; with a short run up and a strong leap he reached the Obelisk's top and grasped the Cupid's bow, then wrapped his legs around the structure holding him to the apex. No means of ascent were available for any creature at its base; however the wolf thing, that was now on all fours, could pounce off the retaining wall and take a bite on way down, a vicious snarl indicated its temptation to do so.

A musket shot from Karl cut short the snarl and brought on a whelp as the projectile nicked the creature's neck. Many voices from the chateau, of guests and staff, coming out to investigate the noises, had the wounded beast flee the scene, as it ran through the grounds several people saw it with bloodied jowls and smoking fur.

"My God." Said a guest hysterically. "It's a hellhound come to claim the soul of the Marquis de St. Evremonde."

The French aristocrat knew his backlog of sins, but gave little concern or belief to that utterance, he had paid the church more than enough money for absolution, it was the next statement that disturbed him most.

"No. It's the Beast." Said another guest. "The Beast of Gevaudan, it's in your back yard Marquis."

"That's not the Beast." Corrected Munchausen. "That is a different wolf."

"You mean, there are two beasts?"


	12. Chapter 12

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Chapter 23**

The morning sun shone on the hunting campsite where the many participants gathered. Aristocrats and specialists assembled in the elite tent to go over their plans, while outside was the rabble consisting of soldiers, gendarmes and hunters. Many farmers, workers and even gypsies were present to help with the mustering.

Baron Munchausen had his own tent erected. The League came along: Hawkeye and Chingachook mingled with the crowd; Alan Breck gave Jean some lessons on how to use a musket; Juliette left soon after arriving, she said she was going for a walk with James Durie. M didn't mind Juliette removing herself from the day's activities; she would be of little use in the hunt and it will be a long "walk".

A buoyant drive was in the hunting party; a fatal wolf attack in the chateau gardens of the Marquis de St Evremonde gave much impetus to this undertaking. The sight of the smouldering wolf last night had several aristocrats grabbing firearms from the Marquis' personal armory but before any shots could be taken, the creature made its exit through the tradesman's entrance, which had been left wide open. Three peasants camped outside, including a child, had been killed by the wolf as it left the area.

Throughout the party dinner and late night activity the Beast of Gevaudan seldom escaped discussion. There was a few condolences for the unfortunate waiter and the slaughtered peasants, though the Marquis de St. Evremonde and The Marquis de Praille each gave a wave of apathy towards the latter.

Redmond Barry entered the tent to a warm welcome from the Baron then sat down.

"Once again." Said M. "I am sorry about Fritz. It hurts when I see a comrade in arms killed in the line of duty."

"Karl and I spent all last night mourning, but at the time we were shocked and baffled as to what happened. We still don't understand it."

Munchausen poured the Irishman a tokay, assuring him it wasn't poisoned. Redmond drank the offering.

"Your mission Redmond and mine are closely connected. The man you are after, Fernand Wagner, serves the man I am after, Joseph Curwen. After this hunt I hope we can work together."

"I would like that Baron, but right now Karl is following up another lead as to Wagner's whereabouts; I have to get back to him as soon as possible. If this lead is good, our mission could be finished today."

"Then I must tell you about your quarry. I've been doing some thinking and research since I noticed him in Cagliostro's theatre: his use of old German words that have been unused for two centuries; his Black Forest dialect; the wolf motifs and the shock appearance of that wolf creature where you were expecting to find him.

"The Black Forest has a legend that a few people know to be fact. In the early sixteenth century an old peasant, angry over the lack of attention from his family, was visited in his hut by a dark figure who promised him immortality with renewed youth and vigor. The price for such good fortune was that every seven years he would shape change into a wolf at each full moon and with a dark savage nature he would kill anyone unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity, thus giving his infernal sponsor a dividend in blood."

"And he accepted?" Asked Redmond.

"Yes." Answered the Baron. "And he has been killing ever since. There have been several reports of his much deserved demise; but they are irrelevant since the deal made him immortal.

"Oh; and the name of this legendary fiend from the Black Forest. Fernand Wagner; the very same man you're looking for."

Redmond stared in disbelief; not wanting to show disrespect for the soldier who was known for his exaggerated adventure stories.

"These murders Herr Wagner committed, when did they happen?" Asked Munchausen.

"When he was serving the Prussian army in the Seven Years War." Answered the Irishman. "Seven years ago."

M continued the questions and Redmond nodded affirmatively for each one. "The murders were savage with heavy mutilation were they not? They were done at night? If you check the almanacs of the time you will find the moon was full like it was last night wasn't it? The last time you saw your quarry he was disrobing, twitching, convulsing and howling; isn't that what you told me? So that wolf creature you saw was Fernand Wagner? The same man who embraced a dark immortality over two hundred years ago?

"Redmond. I'm here hunting a huge freak wolf, while you're here hunting a werewolf."

The Irish spy took a few moments to take this in. Munchausen went on to explain that the page boy seen in the garden was in league with Fernand Wagner, his name was Guy Loup. The page boy tried to poison Munchausen at Wagner's behest, because he serves M's enemy Joseph Curwen. Guy Loup reported his failure to Wagner who, knowing he was about to transform, told the boy to leave the tradesman's entrance wide open, he did that, running into the spies along the way. The boy has fled, so he can't be questioned.

This new wisdom had Redmond Barry sinking several more glasses of tokay. The Baron wished the spy good luck and advised him not to stalk his quarry after dark; also he requested that should he locate Herr Wagner, whether he terminates him or not, to kindly inform Munchausen of the whereabouts; thus helping M achieve his mission. The Irish rogue departed.

Alan Breck, wearing his kilt, entered the tent to report that Jean Baptiste Grenouille has no potential or interest in using a musket.

"No. I didn't think he would. " Said M. "But thank you for trying Alan."

Francois Leroy stood up on a box and addressed the gathering, giving a pep speech and promising a huge bounty for the hunter who kills the Beast of Gevaudan. The French Canadian trapper introduced his chief scout, a shoemaker from the north, his name was Thibault. What was strange about the scout was that his short non descript hair was dotted with streaks of long red hair. Rumors had already spread among the party that he had been promised a bounty for each wolf killed.

Thibault ran into the woods to begin his work. Francois led the hunting party to a place in the forest where he asked all those who were armed to take positions on two stretches of high ground that overlooked a low area between them. Munchausen and the League stood on one of the high grounds; Jean was not armed but stayed with them. Several aristocrats on horses waited in the wings. Musterers were placed on each end of the chosen ambush point.

"Many wolves coming." Said Chingachook, after a half hour wait.

Wolf sounds began to get close the hunting party, everyone readied their muskets.

Thibault bolted into view as if running from the approaching wolf sounds, he promptly ran up the right incline to the safety of the hunters.

"They're coming." He Yelled.

Sure enough a large pack of wolves ran into the low ground; musterers bolted out from behind the pack to force the lupine beasts into completing their run into the hunters' firing line. The pack traveled down the low ground. There were many common grey wolves, a few white ones and some black furred ones; these were fired upon first. Muskets fired in rapid succession raining death on the fleeing targets whose hides were knocked this way and that, while each emitting a yelp of pain.

The first volley was over. Hunters with extra weapons got them out, others reloaded. Hawkeye found Chingachook's hand on his shoulder shaking his head in disapproval. The Mohican had not fired his first shot, Hawkeye realised that this isn't hunting, it's a slaughter.

Those wolves that remained tried to maintain the course to get clear of the deadly zone but a second group of musterers bolted into their path, the pack quickly changed course; some ran back from where they came, a second volley of reloaded muskets annihilated them. The other wolves cut right to an unmanned part of the high ground hoping to reach the protection of dense trees; a few hunters focused on this group sending musket balls into several hides. Horses galloped sending their aristocratic riders after the surviving lupine targets.

Baron Munchausen and Alan Breck had joined in the second volley, then noticed the two frontiersmens' looks of disgust.

"My dear fellows." Said Munchausen. "You're right. This isn't hunting it's slaughtering and The Beast is not among them."

A general exhaltation went throughout the hunting party. M moved the League away from the cheering revelry unable to share in it. Distant gunshots in the forest told that the horsemen were inflicting more casualties on the pack.

Thibault, seemed to be in bitter discourse with Francois Leroy and St Evremonde, he was pointing at the many wolf corpses and demanding something. The Marquis picked out a coin and tossed it at the scout's feet. Thibault let out a few angry words and gestures before picking up the coin and walking off.

"Baron." Said Jean. "The Beast of Gevaudan's spoor is in that box."

The perfumer was pointing at a farmer approaching the party, he was carrying a box. Munchausen called the man over and enquired about his load, he was a Dutch tenant farmer trying his luck in France, his plot had just been traversed by the Beast of Gevaudan he had brought spoor and a candlewax image molded in its footprint for proof that the hunters should bring their efforts to his area.

There was no interest from the Marquis in the Dutch farmer who was insultingly shooed away. Munchausen offered to investigate the farm hoping the Mohican could track down the Beast from there. Four members of the League; M, Hawkeye, Chingachook and Alan began to follow the Dutchman. Jean Baptiste Grenouille convinced the Baron that he could best serve the League by staying behind with the main hunting party.

Jean waved the four hunters goodbye then walked to the killing ground for a look at the slaughtered wolves, most were dead but a few held a flicker of life; some of these had shots pass through their spine or tear at internal organs, others just bled profusely.

A brief request was made to the Marquis de St Evremonde and Jean was allowed to take several of the unfortunate wolves for his purposes. The main hunting party moved to a different location leaving behind a couple of furriers to work on the animal corpses. Jean approached his first marked wolf, it was alive and immobile, a shot having passed through its spine. With a quick action Jean fitted a muzzle over the creature's mouth, restraining what little movement it had.

The perfumer rolled out his tools and, checking to see that the furriers' attention was elsewhere, began to shave all fur off the helpless lupine; when this was finished Jean opened a tub of animal fat and completely covered the furless wolf in white goo. Enfleurage was proving to be a sound method of scent extraction, Jean could sense the animal scent being absorbed by the fat. A heavy blow to the top of the head finished the wolf off, as the scent left its body, the covering fats absorbed more. Neatly scraping all the white goo of the now dead lupine, the perfumer set up his portable distillery and cooked, treated and macerated the scraped animal fat until a precious few drops of potent liquid dripped out of the distillery tap into a perfume bottle.

Jean's sampling of the captured wolf scent brought a grin of victory, smelling the contents of the perfume bottle was like smelling a wolf at very close range, only this was stronger, he would dilute it with water. No marketable perfume could be made with this result, but Jean figured it would be useful for this mission against the Beast of Gevaudan.

Other wolves had been marked for similar attention, the perfumer took his tools, animal fat tub and muzzle and repeated the procedure on several wounded wolves. After three hours Jean had collected enough fluidic wolf scent to fill three vials.

It was only after the perfumer finished and packed up his portable distillery, that the furriers noticed his handiwork; while they were skinning and tanning hides this young man was clearly doing something different. The sight of several furless dead wolves had them scratching their heads in bewilderment, the shaved fur wasn't even collected. The thought that came to each of their minds was "Weirdo" and his exit from the scene was a relief.

What to do with the bottled scent? Jean contemplated many answers, but none were clear as to how it would aid this mission. The hunt gave him the opportunity to take the scent, so he did it. As for the hunt, the perfumer had no confidence that it would find and kill The Beast; he could track down Munchausen and join him, but without a musket or skill to use it he would only get in the way.

Jean was heading towards the Baron's tent when another wolf scent caught his senses; it was like the ones he bottled only this had a drawing seductive quality; it wasn't The Beast, he had been up close to it and would recognise its scent. The woods were thick yet with each tree he passed the gifted sniffer felt he got closer to the mystery of the drawing odour. There were hunters close to the source, spent gunpowder could be sensed but the scent origin was alive.

Francois Leroy greeted Jean as he entered the clearing from the woods. There were only three hunters including Francois; a curt nod was the return greeting. A wolf in a cage was the scent origin it was grey with black streaks and paws; one foreleg seemed to be hurt.

"We caught her in a snare." Explained Francois. "That's why her leg is hurt. A she-wolf in heat and she will bring The Beast to us."

"That depends on which way the breeze is going." Said Jean.

The Canadian trapper told how the hunt had been going badly after the wolfpack massacre. Apart from her, the only wolf that showed was the one that surprised them, darting out of the bushes and biting the Marquis de St Evremonde on the leg; it was shot but not before inflicting grievous damage to the aristocrat, who was carried to hospital. There was no sighting of The Beast, nor of any other wolf after that, the scouts found nothing and the hounds could only lead them to abandoned lairs. It's as if someone told all wolves in the area to leave. The hunting party has since dispersed with only small mobs continuing the effort. The she-wolf was found in a snare two hours ago though she had probably been there longer; realising she was in heat they caged her hoping she would lure other wolves or even The Beast to this killing field.

On hearing this Jean decided to wait with the hunters but after another hour a feeling of hopelessness pervaded. A return to camp was favored and this lure strategy to be stopped. When a musket was pointed at the cage to finish off the she wolf, Jean yelled out a protest. Francois told the perfumer that they don't want to carry the cage back to camp with the wolf in it; if they kill it now they can carry its carcass to the furriers and pick up the cage later.

Munchausen had issued Jean with a pouch of money should he need it for the mission; the perfumer offered Francois the pouch.

"Take this." Offered Jean. "Split it between you. It's worth more than a wolf pelt. Just leave her with me."

"You're not going to let her go are you?" Asked Francois.

"No. I just think your idea can be applied better."

"Ok Jean." Agreed Francois taking the pouch. "Do you want the cage?"

"You can pick it up later. I have my own enclosure." Said Jean while fidgeting with a perfume bottle.

The three trappers left. A stick with a looped rope on the end was available for use. Jean placed a perfume bottle on the flat surface of a tree stump. He stopped for a focused stare at the origin of this luring scent.

Although in heat, the caged wolf knew she could expect only death from these humans, three had just left, leaving only one to deal her fate; he had no loud musket but was preparing a set of tools. The human stared at her; she stared back into his eyes while concentrating her lupine olfactory senses on the perfumer; what she read in him had her shuddering in utter horror.


	13. Chapter 13

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 24**

The French countryside was a visual delight for the League members; Munchausen, Hawkeye and Chingachook found the views breathtaking. For Alan Breck the panorama lacked freshness as they had become commonplace during his exile after Culloden, a stroll over the Scottish Highlands would have been his pleasure.

The farmer's name was Van Baerle; he assured the hunters that it would not be much further, though they seemed to be enjoying the hike.

A team of leashed Irish wolfhounds entered a clearing the League was passing through, a raggedy servant was holding the leashes. The man who was employing the dogs stepped into view holding a musket; Munchausen recognised him.

"Greetings Squire Thornhill." He said. "Why aren't you with the main group."

The Squire was never with the hunting party, not even at the gathering.

"I have my own ideas about hunting, Baron." He replied. "And I don't need to explain them to someone so ill mannered as you. Now I'll take my dogs this way and you take your dogs another way."

All four were taken by the Squire's offense, yet M demanded restraint. It was tempting to shoot a wolfhound or two in order to teach their owner a lesson but they didn't offer the affront. The four hunters continued following the farmer while Thornhill went in another direction cursing and assaulting his servant.

The journey continued for a little while until the farmer reached the crest of a hill and made a presentation move with his hand.

"Behold." He said. "My plot and recent travel path of The Beast."

Four sets of eyes looked at the indicated area and were dazzled by the spectrum of bright colors; red, yellow, blue, pink, purple and white stood in splendidly plush rows of flowers. Munchausen never asked Van Baerle what his crop was, the answer was clearly tulips. The plot was a stunning effulgence of natural color; this visual feast was alone worth the walk.

Van Baerle explained that he came from a family of intense tulip fanciers; his grandfather Cornelius Van Baerle worked fervently to perfect a black tulip. This plot may see a row or two of black tulips one of these days.

"You have created a rainbow Van Baerle." Said M "I feel if I walked across that, I would be crossing Bifrost, the rainbow bridge to Asgard."

"Actually Baron." Said Van Baerle. "I would appreciate it if you tiptoed."

Due consideration was shown when the League members traveled through the field, without damaging the beautiful flora, but The Beast clearly practiced no such caution, the path he took was made easy to see by the disturbed tulip patches. Chingachook, after a little inspection, verified the tracks as those of their quarry. Secondary tracks on the same path were deduced to be those of three piglets he must have been chasing. Van Baerle told that their was a pig farm nearby and that The Beast must have chased the little critters through his plot. A breach in the fence revealed where the freak wolf made his exit.

A disused plot was the tulip grower's neighbour; the tracks were more clear on this ground, they led to a stack of unbaled straw that was splashed with blood. Only two sets of piglet tracks followed the straw. It was apparent that one porcine infant unwisely sought refuge in the stack, was easily extricated by The Beast and devoured; severed trotters and a curled tail confirmed this observation.

The tracks continued to a pile of large sticks. Van Baerle stated that this pile used to be a crudely constructed shed made up of those sticks held together with rope and throngs. A wet trail of blood led away from the pile to a severed piglet head. One set of porcine tracks remained after this, with those of the wolf following. Everyone could tell what happened; the second piglet squeezed his way through the stick wall for the safety of being inside; only to find that The Beast, with his huge strength and bulk, toppled the shed into the useless pile it is now and dragged the little pig out to his death.

"Well." Said Alan. "This wee piggy has been the main course, the former one was the entree. The wolf must have gone after the third one for dessert."

Further along the trail, the hunters came upon a derelict incinerator constucted solidly of bricks and mortar. Tracks revealed to the Mohican scout that The Beast spent a frustrating time trying to gain entry into this structure or demolishing it like the former. An ash door was open at the bottom; the last piglet tracks ended there. Black wolf hair at the doorway edges told how The Beast furiously tried to stick his head in and seize the occupant, but the opening was too small. Van Baerle reached into the doorway groping along the old incinerator floor and withdrew his arm holding an ash covered living piglet.

"Looks like The Beast is off seeking his dessert elsewhere." Exclaimed Van Baerle.

Munchausen patted the snorting piglet, who was either the smartest or luckiest of the three, and ran his finger under its chin.

"This breed must be not far removed from the wild boar." Said M. "It has a light stubble growing under its chin."

Chingachook reported that the wolf tracks beyond here lead into the woods. Van Baerle said his goodbyes and wished the hunters luck, he will take the piglet back to its sty.

Following the wolf's trail through the forest was simple for the seasoned Mohican tracker, so easy that Hawkeye, Alan and the Baron did not get a moment to rest. A verdant green meadow appeared through the wall of trees, the tracks led into it. Cattle were seen in the distance but the trail brought the hunter's attention to a pond in the meadow's centre. Duck feathers smeared with blood were on the bank; Chingachook circled the pond noting the evidence of a recent happening.

At length, the Mohican tracker explained that a lone duck was shaking its feathers dry when it noticed The Beast sneaking up on it. Shocked and terrified, the aquatic bird began to run, or at least waddle fast around the pond's perimeter, the wolf in hot pursuit. The safety of flight was desperately attempted but the duck was weighted down, probably by pregnancy, and needed time to get clear of her pursuer's reach. The duck completed several laps of the pond before the inevitable happened, it was caught by The Beast here, Chingachook pointed at the bloodied feathers, and promptly devoured.

"So, after two courses of piglet, The Beast had duck for dessert." Said Alan.

Beyond the meadow was more forest, the trail continued through it until the hunters came upon a medieval ruin. The long neglected structure was made of sandstone with the occasional wooden partition, and rusted iron metalwork; meaning creaking gates, torn away bars and a loose portcullis leaning against the wall. Weeds, ivy and lichen covered virtually the entire premises. Slabs of sandstone lying around and the state of the walls were testament to several aborted attempts at demolition over the centuries. Hanging plant pots appeared to be the only use people had made of the place.

This my friends." Explained the Baron. "Is an old Knight's Templar fortress. It was abandoned several hundred years ago when the order was terminated."

"The wolf is here." Said Chingachook, readying his musket.

Munchausen told everyone to be silent and alert, then began his climb to the ruin's heights where he could spot The Beast's location. All could see he was trying to reach the top of two high wall arches whose narrow apex would provide a bird's eye view of the area. It would be an awkward climb as he had his musket strapped to his back and two sword scabbards dangling from his belt. He had however removed the pistol from his belt and handed it to Hawkeye.

Much of the fortress ground floor was missing. What used to be a basement was just another level for ground activity, it was easily accessible with a short drop, several grass covered stairwells linked the two levels. There was virtually nothing left of the second storey floor nor the roof; a single ramp reached the former but that ended at a large open window.

There were several nook and crannies where The Beast could be slumbering or lying in wait. Hawkeye noticed Chingachook was intensely tight in his vigilance, as if he expected a wolf to jump out of nowhere. A rustling in a large bush by the main entrance had the Mohican turn around fast and fire his musket, a large rabbit dropped dead. Alan wanted to laugh but a hideous growl filled the ruin. The Beast was coming.

With his shot spent, Chingachook climbed up onto the upper ramp to reload. Hawkeye figured the wolf's path of approach and aimed his musket down a ruin hall. A huge black shape darted across the line of fire, predicting the appearance, Hawkeye shifted his aim a little to the right to compensate for the target's speed and fired his musket only to see the shot that would've hit, be blocked by a hanging pot plant, which shattered.

"Alan. You have to take the shot." Roared Hawkeye.

Alan remained focused on the hall, though he had the only ready shot, he knew his aim was perfect and that wolf would be dead when it appears in the hall again. The old wooden partition to their right suddenly shattered; bits of paling and splinters burst into the hunters' faces. The Jacobite and the frontiersman were blinded for an instant by the debris, a savage growl told them The Beast had flanked them, broke through the partition and was now only five feet away.

Alan cleared his vision to see a monstrous, red eyed, black wolf pounce at him; hurrying to point his firearm, he was too late; huge jaws clamped on the tartan sash sinking teeth into his shoulder. The pain was shocking, Alan's musket jerked upward and fired into thin air before it was dropped. Hawkeye recovered his senses to see The Beast bring the Scot down on his back then, while running, drag the screaming victim towards the woods. Drawing the Baron's pistol, the trapper aimed the weapon he was not used to using and fired, hitting the furry monster in the rear.

The Beast jerked, losing its hold on Alan; it could've finished the Jacobite off right then and there, but the red eyes were focused on Hawkeye, who bolted to find quick refuge. A lone sandstone block was the first hasty choice for safety but it was only five feet high; Hawkeye got on top then realised the giant lupine could easily jump up and get him. When The Beast made its move, the frontiersman tactfully jumped to a neighbouring sandstone block, buying himself seconds to look for a better refuge, and saw one but the wolf was between him and it.

Hawkeye discarded his items, got off the sandstone block and ran towards The Beast head on. A few feet from collision the rugged trapper leaned forward, placed his hands on the ground and with great strength and momentum did a somersault up and over the charging wolf. The Beast actually lowered its carriage to meet the strange move that put its prey's head near the ground. Propelled in a reckless spin, Hawkeye's weight landed firmly on the lupine's wounded hind, making it a yelping mass of pain and confusion. Leftover momentum from the somersault had the frontiersman alight the hindquarters and land neatly on his feet.

With refuge now close, Hawkeye raced to it, the wolf's hot breath at his heels. The rusty old grid that was once a portcullis, was leaning diagonally against the perimeter wall; the fleeing trapper bound up it to the top; The Beast could not follow or reach him: as it snarled and threatened a thrown tomahawk hit it in the snout. Chingachook was now priority prey.

He had done what he could to save his adoptive son, but the Mohican acted too soon, he had not finished reloading his musket and the savage lupine was now moving on him. Leaving the firearm behind, Chingachook bolted up the ramp to the second storey, the wolf in aggravated pursuit.

Baron Munchausen had reached the top of the grand arches and the top bricks barely gave him room for half a foot; he had observed the engagements down below and hurried to balance himself atop the wall and take aim at the monster closing in on Chingachook. By the time M had achieved balance, The Beast was on the Mohican, who had reached the dead end upper platform; with an agile twist of his body he dodged the oncoming snapping jaws and with a swift knife slash to the foreleg, hamstrung the lupine fury.

Pressing its feet into the floor to halt its dodged momentum, the wolf yelped in pain as its wounded foreleg was too hurt to function as such, the failed footwork caused The Beast to roll helplessly to the edge of the large open window with no sill. Chingachook wasted no time, a strong lateral swing of his large axe like weapon into the tough wolf hide, knocked the black furred monster over the edge; a diminishing yelp and a thud followed.

M wanted to applaud the aging trapper, but his balance was too tenuous; anyway it was clear to both hunters that the fall was not high enough, The Beast was not dead and despite many injuries, was still quite active and running into the basement. Any wide adjustments to Munchausen's aim could not be done without losing balance, he needed to get his feet on the ground.

A confident grin was on the Baron's face while observing the architecture below, he had made a few instant calculations Munchausen strapped his musket to his back, ran down the curve of an arch, jumped aside, landed on top of an unused support column which toppled and fell, the ivy covered wall it collided with held. M, who managed to hang on, casually walked down the columns new diagonal slope to the ground.

His musket ready, the aristocratic soldier and veteran of several wolf hunts began to take aim at The Beast; it noticed him and charged with its usual ferocity. Munchausen thought of his name on the plaque beneath the wolf's trophy head, his fame sparkling again in the European newspapers, there could even be a rousing city wide welcome upon his return to Germany. It was time, Baron Munchausen fired his kill shot at the notorious man-eater.

And missed.

His lower jaw dropping, M discarded his spent firearm, drew his sabre and shortsword then jumped into the lower level; his survival strategy was based on the wisdom of the third piglet, so the desperate soldier ducked into a low brick alcove.

The Beast approached the alcove then growled and salivated, reaching its head in to seize the trapped aristocrat, it was met with a sabre edge. Hurt by its new cut but not deterred, the wolf looked its prey in the eye and snarled viciously. Munchausen had been through too many adventures and perils to be incapacitated with fear, his defences will not be compromised. The monstrous head darted in for an attack, M's shortsword was thrusted into its neck, the wolf withdrew and growled with pain and ferocious hate. Using the shortsword required care in this circumstance, if the Baron stabbed too far those bestial jowls would take his hand off.

Several more attacks were attempted by the wolf, the German soldier held them all off until Hawkeye and Chingachook with reloaded muskets moved in for another shot at their lupine target. Horse sounds at the far end of the fortress meant the arrival of another hunting party. The Beast, despite its hamstring injury, began a fast retreat into the woods before the two frontiersmen could take aim.

Alan Breck was in great pain, but he managed to roll himself into a ditch and cover it with a nearby loose rusty grate. Stopping to stand over the Jacobite, the wolf snarled and drooled, from above the grill. Coupled with the returning memory of the shark attacking his cage in the Calais dock waters, this horrific ordeal with The Beast of Gevaudan sent him into shock and coma.

Gunshots rang out around the fortress, the horsemen had spotted The Beast and rode their steeds in pursuit of the fleeing wolf. Hawkeye and Chingachook did not get their next shot; as they watched the horses gallop into the woods after their quarry, they checked up on Alan to find him in his ditch, unconscious and bleeding. Munchausen knew first aid; he cleaned and bandaged Alan's wound.

A crude stretcher was made, the injured Scot would have to be carried back to the tents and then put on a wagon to hospital.

The Marquis de Praille was among the hunters on horseback, he would later tell the Baron that despite a gallant chase The Beast eluded them. All in all the hunt had failed.


	14. Chapter 14

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 25**

An interesting scent caught the attention of Jean Baptiste Grenouille, sending him deeper into the forest. Several lupine scents were bottled and in his possession; he could mix these into his into his next cosmetic creations, but what drew him away from the Baron's camp was the foreign odor of sable.

These mink like animals were not native to France, someone had to have brought a sable, or its fur, over from Russia or elsewhere in the far east. Jean became familiar with the scent when he was a child labourer in a Paris tannery; these foreign pelts would sometimes be brought in for treatment.

The search brought the curious perfumer to the edge of the woods where a low mound marked the odor's source. A young woman wearing a hat, scarf and coat made of sable fur was skulking around the mound's base; she met with a man who obviously had the same itinerary she had, the same weapons to; a pistol and a knife.

A series of whispers and gestures brought the two skulkers to an agreed plan of action. The woman mounted a horse and rode slowly around the left side of the mound; the man moved carefully around the right, while loading his pistol. Neither had noticed the perfumer observing them.

Jean realised that the two skulkers were hunting, but not The Beast, as was the occasion today; not with those weapons; they were hunting a person. The perfumer engaged his olfactory sense on the area trying to pick up individual personal scents, there were several and one was particularly familiar, Juliette.

The amorous courtesan had brought her ex Maharajah companion to a strip of ground where privacy was facilitated by a circle of mounds, she spent hours trying to shake loose his Indian manservant Secunda Dass, now she had James Durie to herself. Juliette drew the Scot to her and kissed him passionately while feeling the smooth silk of his clothing around the chest. The second elongated kiss began a second after the first was over, she began to work on his vest buttons.

James Durie had small moments to breath and no chance to speak, the woman had spent all today and last night hearing of his tantric sex practices, she wanted to hear no more, it was time to feel and experience. Juliette clung herself to him like an eagle's talons clutches its prey, the Jacobite showed no sign of wanting to escape, he was lost in this frenzy of aggressive foreplay.

A thudding sound interrupted the nuptial activity, Juliette had just unfastened all of James' upper vestments when he went limp in her arms. The Scot was unconscious, knocked out by a truncheon blow from behind; Juliette let the body drop to the ground. Squire Thornhill held the blunt weapon, he was alone apart from a team of Irish wolfhounds in the background, his servant had long since deserted him.

"I told you Juliette." Said the Squire as he pocketed the truncheon. "I will have you, whether married to me or not."

"I'd rather marry one of your dogs." She replied.

Thornhill seized her right arm and began to draw the protesting woman to him while grasping for her left arm, but an evasive move followed by a clawing action at his face got him to disengage his hold. A swift and practiced hand movement brought a slap to Juliette's face but a skillful and highly practiced dodge allowed the experienced woman to evade the following backhand. Taking advantage of the missed strike, the courtesan pushed the squire in the direction he just threw his weight, getting him off balance and inducing a stumble.

Juliette quickly reached for her garter holster and drew her pistol, but Thornhill recovered his balance fast and seized the firearm. As each grappler wrestled for possession of the flintlock weapon, the woman tried her clawing action with her other arm but it was grabbed by the man. Which way the gun's barrel pointed was in dispute she tried to aim it at the Squire's head, he was forcing it outwards and with a neat manipulation of his thumb, managed to press her finger on the trigger.

The pistol fired into the air, ending Juliette's hope of a fast and total resolution to this ordeal; relaxing her hold on the spent firearm allowed Thornhill to tear it from her grasp and throw it away. A cruel and angry backhand struck the woman's face.

Juliette laughed. "Is that the best you can do." She said.

Squire Thornhill rushed her, seizing her dress and bodice trying hard to rip the latter from its laces in one effort. Juliette enjoyed seeing his exertion become pain when she brought her knee up into his crotch. The possessed aristocrat slumped into a position much like a writhing worm and nursed his agonized testicles.

The courtesan gloated too long on her humiliated attacker; despite his pain he got himself up and drew his truncheon; his face was one of rage. Juliette decided to make for the woods behind him and lose herself in them; she maneuvered to go around the Squire but he had recovered his agility faster than she thought and positioned himself to cut off her escape. A gunshot sound thundered through the scene as its projectile tore through Thornhill's chest, the Squire died instantly, his body collapsing to the ground.

"Damn." Cursed the man with the smoking pistol.

He was one of the remaining members of the Seven Virtues, Juliette knew he was Temperance, his shot was meant for her; Thornhill had unintentionally stepped into the line of fire when he was trying to intercept her. The assassin dropped his spent firearm, drew his knife and moved towards his mark. Juliette turned to run the other way but a horse mounted woman with furred adornments barred her way. Temperance halted his advance, he was going to let his confederate do the task. Chastity was the woman on the horse, she drew her pistol but waited till the steed brought her close to the target, who was placing a hand on her own chest, apparently as a gesture of submission.

"Well Harlot." Said Chastity. "The time to pay for your filthy vices has come."

Eye contact between assassin and mark was broken when the latter turned aside. Chastity didn't mind, the women of vice couldn't face her death, a shot to the side of the head would be just as effective as one between the eyes. It was the instant before firing that Juliette's hand on her chest darted towards the horse's face and sprayed a liquid at the equine nose. Sheer panic gripped the steed, it suddenly reared up in a frenzied prance; sending Chastity's shot over Juliette's head. The spray was Grenouille's knockout concoction and it had the horse neighing, thrashing and bucking in an uncontrollable protest at this new stimuli; a kicking foreleg made contact with the courtesan's hand, knocking the spay bottle away to a shattering impact against the rocks. Chastity was thrown off the bucking steed to a hard fall on her head, leaving her senseless. The maddened equine turned and galloped away in a futile effort to escape the potent induced smell.

High up on the mound Jean Baptiste Grenouille had observed some of the events, and realised the two skulkers were out to kill Juliette; one was thrown off her steed and presently harmless, the other had a knife and after seeing his confederate's misfortune, moved towards the courtesan, who was now blinded by the dirt kicked up by the thrashing horse.

To help his fellow League member, the perfumer noted the direction of the breeze, picked out a vial of collected scent and hurled it at the assassin, who was thus doused with strange smelling fluid when the vial hit him and shattered. Temperance looked around but never saw the perfumer, nor did he understand the meaning of the foul fluid until the team of Irish wolfhounds showed fierce aggression towards him. Squire Thornhill did not bother to tether the tall beasts, they shared a common leash but had enough maneuverability to form a team of savage canine fury. Growls were the first sign of unexplained hostility by the hounds towards Temperance, they moved on him; their growls became snarls, teeth bearing and bitter barking all focused on the assassin.

Clearing her eyes, Juliette noticed Temperance getting menaced by the wolfhounds, their barks became more intense and frequent, some even attempted to nip him, his knife did little to ward them off and his attempts to command them were useless. Eventually the Virtue turned to run, he didn't get far; a nip to the leg tripped him up and subsequent biteholds kept him down as the wolfhounds did there thing to the source of the lupine scent.

The dogs were big and powerful, Temperance, while screaming and struggling in pain, managed to shake off biteholds only to have them resumed a second later, all parts of his person were under attack and the hounds savagery intensified. Nips became large bites and as the assassin's threshings became less effective, the bites became tears. Arms, legs and the torso were under attack, the body was dragged this way and that as more chunks of flesh were ripped from their tendons. Temperance, with his knife, managed to deliver a few stabs and slashes to his attackers but their ferocity never wavered. Inevitably a hound managed to reach its jaws underneath the victim's chin and tear out the throat bringing all struggle to an end. A savage mutilation of the corpse was in effect as the wolfhounds followed their calling, their olfactory senses telling them that this man was a wolf.

James Durie's manservant, Secunda Dass entered the scene, he noticed the whole picture, including the wolfhound carnage but was focused on his unconscious master. As the crafty perfumer got down from the mound to approach Juliette, the dedicated Indian picked up the limp ex-Maharajah then faced the two League members.

"Whatever is going on here, my master will no longer be a part of it; I will take him away. Do not follow or try to help me. Your bizarre practices are your own, do not involve him anymore." He screamed. "You have done enough harm to him already."

Seeing her intended lover carried away by his manservant squashed Juliette's hope for a romantic afternoon of tantric sex practices; she shifted her attention, with a taste for cruelty on the woman who just tried to kill her. Taking the truncheon from Squire Thornhill's dead hand, the courtesan squatted over the assassin who was just recovering her senses, and gave Chastity a firm whack over the head, knocking the Virtue out.

Jean explained to the Juliette that he had extracted and bottled lupine scent from wolves shot during the hunt; when he noticed the male killer moving on her he doused him, from above, with the bottled scent; the Irish wolfhounds responded to the lupine smell by attacking him as if he was a wolf. Praise was given to the perfumer and also a thank you for the knockout concoction, Juliette had sewn the bottle into her dress lacework, when she placed her hand on her chest she took it out discreetly then sprayed the concoction into the horses face, the steed wasn't knocked out, but it raised a big fuss, bucking off its rider.

Two differing attentions were focused on the unconscious Chastity. As Jean reached for his portable still; the courtesan plucked from her sleeve a rope tied into an adjustble noose. A plea from her fellow League member to leave the female assassin to his ministrations had Juliette in deep scrutiny. Jean could not explain what he was going to do, so her inquiry was answered with an awkward silence.

There was no lust in the eyes of the perfumer, no shock and no disgust; his fixation had moved away from the assassin to the courtesan, whom he stared at with an unblinking intensity that showed a drive she did not understand.

"Listen." Said the woman. "Whatever you want to do, you do it to the other assassin; what's left of him; or even the Squire. Yes you can have Squire Thornhill. I brought down the woman, she's mine."

Juliette turned away from the staring perfumer and placed the noose around Chastity's neck. I was then that the courtesan began to engage her smelling sense, which was heightened by ovulation, Jean's usual odor of cat droppings and vinegar was there, but she realised that this was an added scent, much like perfume, and it was fading thin. Her olfactory faculties could now detect what the added scent was hiding; it was a void, a total absence of personal odor. In the next second of awareness Juliette thought of the void as a dark vacuum which needed to drain other peoples' scents into it and she figured there was no difference between draining someone's scent and sucking out their lifeforce.

She started to turn, in order to face and confront the scentless man behind, when her head felt a sudden blow and the lights went out.

There was enough animal fat in the tub for one more cold enfleurage; though the sable woman's scent was pure, Juliette's personal odor was fascinating; the perfumer wanted it ever since he met her; it had an invigorating drive and powerful attraction; much like the courtesan herself. Jean designated an empty perfume bottle then began to prepare for the extraction process when a deep foreboding voice startled him.

"That wasn't very nice."

A pallid colorless man looking about thirty years old wearing a colorful open robe with flashy star embroidery was the surprise presence. He faced the breeze; therefore the perfumer did not sense him until now.

"You're Genouille aren't you? Jean Baptiste Grenouille?" Said the man.

Jean didn't answer nor even nod, he just gave a shock stare at the figure who strolled menacingly into his personal space and the scene of his most secret activity. Proximity allowed the perfumer to smell the intruder: his scent was one of maturity many decades beyond his apparent thirty years; a dead flesh reek was there, this man did work on human dead bodies; the Beast of Gevaudan's scent was on him, this was certainly the huge wolf's master; and most disturbing of all were the unearthly odors that were so faint, that only a gifted man like Jean could sense them.

Revulsion, shock and near mind bending horror hit the perfumer; these unearthly odors indicated to him that this man had been in communion with entities that defied human comprehension and should never cross into this realm of human existence. Jean retained his straight face, despite his sense of abject foulness, a character trait he practiced often.

"Joseph Curwen." Said Jean, recognizing the ghostly face in Cagliostro's firebowl and the robe of the man on the hill sending his killer wolf to slay him after hurling a fireball at his coach.

"Correct." Replied the man with a sinister scowl. "The Baron brought you here as part of a team to deal with me. Oh don't deny it. I know about The League; the trapper, the Indian, the Jacobite rebel and of course the nymphomaniac." He said turning his gaze at the limp form of Juliette.

His face darted back in time to see Jean reach into his pocket.

"Stop." Curwen commanded with an imposing finger gesture. The perfumer complied when he noticed two wolfmen in the background with muskets clearly aimed at him.

"Let's see what you've got there." Joseph Curwen did a motion with his hand and an invisible force whipped the bottle out of Jean's hand and flung it to his. A cautious and light examination of the bottle's contents ensued. The robed warlock pointed his finger then did an upward motion with his hand; Jean's feet lifted from the ground he was elevated fifteen feet into the air, he could move his limbs but could not change his position.

"This is the substance you used to knockout my wolfmen at the theatre." Accused Curwen while making clamping movements with his controlling hand and throwing the bottle, with his other hand, to a shattering impact against the rocks.

Being airborne and helpless was bad enough but Jean also felt a crushing pain in his stomach, on his ribcage and throat. His tormenter gloated on him with a cold calculating gaze, then gradually lowered his hand. The perfumer felt himself gently descending to the ground his pain ceased.

"You're a crafty fellow Grenouille." Said Curwen adopting a more friendly tone. "You don't belong with the Baron or his League. Munchausen is a self deluding charlatan, a sorry figure who dazzles people with unbelievable stories, then baits them into being part of his make believe adventures. You were meant for better things, grander things than getting killed for his self-aggrandizment. Anyway he's not going to be to happy when he finds out what you just did to Juliette.

"You should join me Grenouille, you have only begun to feel your potential, the Baron can't help you advance it, I can help you create substances that would have all people here, there and everywhere sing a chorus of divine praise to you and me, while they all serve without question and embrace the new world with passion. It will be our world Grenouille, the people, the animals, the elements and the very cosmos under our dominion."

Jean's feet were on the ground again, his recent torture and subsequent invitation did not change his straight face the only reaction he occasionally revealed was that of thinking.

Scrutiny was always evident on Joseph Curwen's face, the lack of any emotion on the perfumer's face, had him shift his attention to Juliette. Grabbing the limp courtesan by her hair, the warlock began to talk with hostility again.

"This woman chose to serve the Baron, she believed the concept of The League was a good idea. She was a fool; you Grenouille have proved this point. Such a grouping would prey upon itself then let its enemy pick off the remains."

Curwen let her go and began to examine the sable fur coated assassin's unconscious body.

"She is from way out east. Tell me Grenouille does the word vorvolaka mean anything to you? It would have to her."

A simple negative head movement was all the response Jean gave.

"It should. Matter of fact you should be very aware of what it means considering your secret activities." He said, resuming his friendly tone, indicating Juliette. "She wasn't the first was she?"

The straight face did not waver, nor did the perfumer see fit to answer.

"A vorvolaka is a dead person who awakes in their grave, digs their way out and preys upon the living, this is said to have happened many times in the eastern countries. I reckon such a being would have a priority for finding the one responsible for their death. Your secret activities expose you to dangers far more imposing than the law or Munchausen's disfavour. Once again you should join me Grenouille, the thought of all your victims rising from the grave and together tearing you apart limb from limb is not a very pleasant destiny."

"It doesn't happen here. The dead stay dead." Said Jean.

Joseph Curwen grinned, then moved over to the mutilated body of Temperance. A sharp vocal command in a foriegn tongue from the warlock had the Irish wolfhounds flee the corpse and the scene.

"Another piece of your handiwork?" Asked Curwen rhetorically while observing the gory remains. "Murderers would shudder if they knew what I can do. I can bring the dead back to life. I can; but not this one, he is clearly missing many of his essential salts."

Squire Thornhill was the next corpse for examination, the warlock saw that the perfumer was obviously unconvinced.

"Pistol shot wound in the back, blood contained within the body and minimal spillage onto the shirt. His essential salts are intact. I can do it, I could bring this one back to life; properly if I get him on my alter stone and go through the ritual; but no, I should do it here and now, though he will be insane and murderous plus he will have the pain of the gunshot wound, much like a vorvolaka."

A hand signal from Curwen had one of the wolfman approach.

"Fernand, take the courtesan, we have plans for her." Ordered the warlock.

The wolfman virtually drooled at the sight of Juliette, he lifted her limp body and carried her as if she was a bride being taken across the threshold of matrimony, he stopped briefly to give a hearty grin towards the perfumer, then proceeded to his destination. One wolfman still held Jean in his line of fire.

"I don't think you're with me Grenouille, not yet." Said Curwen. "Remember what I said; that is if you survive the next five minutes. I'm going to show you what I can do, then you will be convinced. You need to be on the side of those who control death, you're about to experience what its like being on the wrong side. If you survive today we will meet again when Munchausen sends his League to fight me for his glory. When that happens I want to hear from you that you are with me and together we will achieve majesty over both creation and destruction."

Joseph Curwen squatted over Thornhill's body then placed a hand on the squire's head and chanted in some ancient language. When he was finished he got up and turned to depart the scene.

"Good luck Grenouille." He yelled as he motioned the armed wolfman to follow him.

Thornhill's bloodied chest began to heave up and down. The perfumer stood still in disbelief as the English rake breathed, then coughed and mumbled. Jean never doubted that the squire was dead in the first place, he smelled dead, and when he opened his eyes and sat up, he continued to smell of dead flesh.

Getting to its feet, the re-animated corpse faced the stupefied perfumer with the look of a rabid dog and guttural sounds to match; it bared its reddened teeth, stained by coughing up blood. Thornhill charged Grenouille with awkward strides and reached out arms, Jean tried to keep clear of the ghoul by backing off, but it always maintained its approach whatever the direction its quarry veered to, it even gained on him. Jean tripped backwards at one point but managed to get up and dodge the enveloping arms of Squire Thornhill.

Neither the insane Englishman nor the American necromancer seemed to take into account that the French perfumer had no hand in the former's demise; nevertheless, Jean was the current prey of this abomination. Wide open space seemed to offer the best escape from this predicament, Jean began to run for it when he noticed an upright musket leaning against a tree; this had to be Thornhill's hunting weapon; Jean seized the firearm and, remembering what little he cared to learn from Alan Breck's lesson, aimed and fired at the Squire. The shot hit its target at close range in the shoulder. Thornhill was knocked back on his rear, but got up again at once and resumed his hunt with even louder ferocity.

It was the impact of the shot that knocked Thornhill down, not the injury, the re-animated corpse felt pain, but this only aggravated the drive to molest its quarry. The arm attached to the wounded shoulder was half limp and probably only had limited use to the frenzied madman.

Jean discarded the spent musket the evaded his awkward pursuer to flee into the open woods where he could leave this ordeal behind. He would have completed this escape easily had he not noticed the figure that was once Thornhill shifted its attention to the unconscious woman lying in sable furs.

A shadow was cast over the helpless female figure as the mad squire leaned over her to commence his assault. Frenzied clawing and shaking were first then the mad attacker knelt down to begin his savage bites. Jean slammed the heavy handle of his enfleurage trowel into the back of Thornhill's head, the frenzied figure sprung up in pain, Jean struck again fast, and again, hitting the same spot until he felt the skull cave in. Squire Thornhill slumped into his second death, the perfumer dragged the inanimate corpse away.

Not for a second did Jean consider joining Joseph Curwen, the unearthly creature scents on him were shocking in the extreme, those entities must never be a commonplace smell or even a rare one. Munchausen and The League must destroy Curwen, whatever portal he was facilitating must be shut. The perfumer now understood the words of The Baron, Cagliostro and Guy Mannering. Now The League was down a member, the warlock had Juliette. Jean could never tell M what he did to the courtesan; what he could do was lead everyone to Curwen's location, he could track that necromancer's scent from several miles away now, foul and repulsive as the unearthly scents were.

The woman in sable furs began to stir, she was unconscious throughout the ordeal after Juliette clubbed her; the abuses done by the mad squire amounted to nothing more than a few scratches.

Chastity awoke with a headache, loosened clothing and sore spots on her body, she made a sigh of relief when she felt that her trademark quality was intact. She was groggy and slow, her vision blurred, when it became clear she found herself looking at an empty perfume bottle. Turning to see the holder of this glass vessel she looked up into the face of Jean Baptiste Grenouille, it was the last thing she ever saw.


	15. Chapter 15

**The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 26**

Each wolf in the pack were either licking their lips or panting in joyous anticipation of the repast ahead of them, it was the body of Juliette, that was the vision the tranquil courtesan was experiencing in her sweet delirium. She had no idea how she got there or what happened to her put her in this state, she ascertained that the provisions of her will as to the disposal of her corpse were being met.

Being an atheist, Juliette stated in her will that upon death there was to be no Christian funeral, burial or headstone, the executors were to arrange for her dead body to be chopped up and fed to the wolves. So here she was on a serene forest floor, unable to move or speak, just observe through her dreamy eyes. The wolves were going to eat her and she was going to feel ecstasy with each bite, tear and swallow; this was indeed a pleasant delerium.

A dark figure entered the scene, it was the Beast of Gevaudan, the wolf pack backed off in fear of this huge imposing lupine; it turned its red eyes towards Juliette, its jowls salivating, its breathe putrid and hot. Suddenly this vision was one of distress, it had lost its sweet quality. The Beast was a foul creation it had no place in the woman's death plans; after a couple of steps towards her it inexplicably ran away as if chastised by a cross parent.

Juliette felt her consciousness fade out and then fade in to a new vision, she was still horizontal and immobile but the serene forest was gone. She was floating in a dark void with only faint illumination; there was nothing above or below her and a haze that appeared to be a shimmering curtain blurred anything there was to see.

It was through this haze that the Juliette noticed the illumination's source, it was a conglomeration of iridescent globes, she realised quickly that this was not a structure but a stupendous and malign entity. A near mind splitting sense of horror overcome the woman, she knew that without the blurring haze her mind would've shattered into splinters at sight of this foul omnipotence. It was not God, Juliette's atheism remained intact, this was something horrid and thankfully dormant.

"Yog Sothoth. Yog Sothoth. Yog Sothoth. Yog Sothoth." The unseen choir chanted.

With each repetition of those words, Juliette could see the iridescent globes pulsate in sequence. She knew the omnipotent entity's name now.

"They're not trying to wake that thing up are they?" Juliette asked in thought.

"Yog Sothoth. Yog Sothoth. Yog Sothoth. Yog Sothoth." The chanting continued.

A series of mini visions played out in front of Juliette. First was a book being opened, only the foremost letters of the title could be made out: NECRO. Second was the image of a distressed she wolf being dangled within what must be the multi-globed entity, drawing in its essence. Next mini vision was that of a black wolf cub with red eyes, it was being fed on human body parts; severed fingers and toes, soft internal organs and minced flesh. Finally the same cub, now an adult preying upon people, the vision showed it killing a little girl wearing a red hooded cloak.

Juliette figured that these mini visions were echoes of what has already happened, they tell of the conception, raising and savage maturity of the Beast of Gevaudan.

The courtesan felt herself descending, her consciousness fading out and in again to a former vision, she was back on the forest floor, but this time the wolf pack had surrounded her still form to look down on her. A new chant began to fill the air.

"Y'ai'ng'ngah. Yog Sothoth. H'ee-l'geb. F'ai Trhodog. Uaaaah."

It sounded as if the wolves themselves were doing the chanting, yet their mouths did not articulate. The woman figured that a lupine grace was being uttered and they would commence devouring her any second.

In a flash, Juliette's consciousness suddenly jolted to a more vivid level; her eyes opened, wolf heads were above her, she was being seized, not by jowls or paws, but by hands, human hands. The wolfmen lifted her off the altar and placed the waking woman on her feet, they maintained support until she found balance, but still held on to her.

"Welcome to my parlor." Said a man in colored robes. "I trust you found the transcendental experience weird and wondrous, many people come out of that insane."

Juliette saw that her dress and bodice were still on; she was presently a captive of the wolfmen and that the man in colored robes was Joseph Curwen. They were in a wide illuminated cavern, with both stalactites and stalagmites, though most of the latter had been leveled.

"What am I doing here?" She asked.

"You are a wretched member of Munchausen's pitiful League, we grabbed you, brought you here, now you are our prisoner." Explained Curwen.

"Put her on the crossbars." The warlock commanded.

The wolfmen dragged her to an little structure shaped like an X. A rope was tied around one of her wrists then threaded through an iron loop on the top of one crossbar, then brought across and through another fixed loop on top of the other crossbar, and tied around her other wrist. Juliette was effectively spread-eagled with her back to the structure; she had experienced many bondage types and this was actually one of her more favored because she could sit on the intersection.

The captive courtesan noticed several torture devices in the background, a rack, stocks, thumbscrews and an iron maiden that was wide open showing its nasty spikes. A hot coals stand was nearby with brands and pokers getting heated up.

Joseph Curwen approached her, the colored robe was gone, he was wearing a brown suit with a frilled shirt front and white silken bow tie. The face retained a cruel demeanor as if he was torturing her in his mind.

"I don't know what's worse." He Said. "The Baron's folly in forming The League or your stupidity in being part of it? I mean what were you thinking?"

"When I was briefed." She replied. "I thought, brilliant. What a great way to spend the next few days; ridding France of a complete jerk with a bag of magic tricks and a freaky pet dog."

A bitter frown marked Curwen's face, he moved close to the bound woman then delivered a furious slap to her face followed by a more powerful backhand. Juliette smiled as if she enjoyed the abuse.

"You have no idea what my powers are and what they have done for you." He spat.

"What are you thinking Joseph Curwen?" She asked. "Why do you chant to that malign creature in the void?"

"Creature! Creature you say." He replied. "You saw Yog Sothoth, his splendor is omnipotent, the human mind cannot gaze upon it without going hopelessly insane. You're lucky you were in a state of heavy delerium.

"Yog Sothoth is an outer deity, all the cosmos in one, both gate and key to anywhere or anything in the past, present or future in this world and in all other planes of existence. I should give you to him. Yes, you will mate with this cosmic entity, your mind will be shattered but your progeny will conquer the Earth under my majesty.

"I could just torture you to death or give you to all the wolfmen as an erotic chew toy; but no. It is this sacrifice to Yog Sothoth that will sadden Munchausen no end, if he survives this conflict with me, he will turn in his sleep in abject misery for the rest of his life knowing that he is responsible for sending you into my clutches."

The warlock grabbed the woman's hair and looked into her eyes.

"The all powerful one will love me for this, he will bestow upon me more powers. It will happen soon. I must do the research." He said.

Joseph Curwen let her hair go and walked off. Juliette put aside all suspicion that it was Jean who knocked her out. The wolfmen must have sneaked up on the two League members at the mounds and knocked her out, but she had no headache; the warlock must have zapped her unconscious with sorcery. What happened to Jean? What she should be asking herself is; how to get out of here?

A team of wolfmen lifted the crossbars with its captive still on it and moved it to an isolated alcove. Fernand Wagner, in his wolfskin, entered the chamber and sent all present out, he wanted the amorous courtesan to himself. Juliette recognised her assailant from the theatre battle, the wolfman who almost stabbed her to death but hesitated when he saw her naked body. His current intentions were clear, they would be to any courtesan.

"Well Hello. Do you recall my strip act at the theatre?" She smoothed the words out in an inviting tone while making seductive movements with her torso, then stretched her face towards him as much as her bonds allowed.

The wolfman brought his lips close to hers but she drew herself back in, luring him right up against her and the crossbars. His lips merged with hers and their tongues tantalised each other, she smiled when it was over. More kisses were applied to her breasts and torso while his hands fiercely caressed her thighs, Juliette gave complimentary moans with each contact. As the frequent kisses moved up to her throat, the wily courtesan shifted herself to the right, Fernand compensated by moving himself to the right. Juliette retracted her left hand to the loop fixture allowing her to bring her right hand down on the wolfskin shoulder and with expert manipulation, tore out a metal stud from the seams while simultaneously emitting a loud fake moan of high ecstasy.

Fernand had felt something happen to his shoulder, but the orgasmic sound had divided his attention and the amorous woman wrapped her legs about his waist and immediately began to kiss him wherever she could; all concerns about his shoulder were forgotten. He was lost in this strong passion each moment was followed by an even more intense one, he couldn't stop, nor did he till his name was yelled from the chamber entrance.

Two figures scrutinized the scene, Joseph Curwen and a little boy in a wolfskin. Juliette recognised Guy Loup, the page boy at St. Evremonde's party, the kid who nearly poisoned M. The warlock frowned at the wolfman as Fernand tried to level out his breathing.

"I'll have a word with you about this later." Said Curwen in a cross tone. "Right now we have some trouble on a nearby hill, take four armed men and deal with it."

"Yes. At once." Answered Fernand before leaving the chamber.

Scrutiny from the two was intense; Juliette could only look casual with her fists clenched, looking innocent was not an option for her. Joseph Curwen ordered two wolfmen to enter the chamber and watch the suspicious captive, then with Guy Loup following, left.

Juliette's two guards faced each other and conversed idly, this was her chance to employ the stud she had clenched in her right hand. The stud's rim was mildly sharp, the captive began to rub it on the rope that bound her. Musket shots could be heard in the distance, maybe Munchausen and The League were coming to her rescue. Still, she was going to extricate herself from this ordeal, this was the very quality for which M valued her. She could get out of trouble as easily as she gets into it.

Another wolfman entered the chamber and addressed the two guards.

"The trouble on the nearby hill is worse than we thought. The Master is going himself to help deal with it, he wants all the backup he can get. You two must go and help him. I will stay and watch the prisoner."

"You're the new guy?" One wolfman said.

"Yes. More useful here than out there." He replied.

The two guards left to aid Joseph Curwen. This watcher faced her; Juliette could only hope that he didn't notice her activity, what he was doing was staring at her with some intent, then he drew out a knife.

"You won't escape the all magnificent cause of virtue this time harlot." He said.

Removing his wolfskin, the lone figure revealed himself; Juliette had met him before, only this time he was pointing a knife at her, instead of a musket. The figure was Patience, last of the Seven Virtues.


	16. Chapter 16

**The League of Extraordinary** **Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 27**

It was late afternoon, the encroaching night will have a full moon, not the best time to begin a werewolf hunt. Redmond Barry tried to convince Karl that the following morning would be a better time to commence their move on Fernand Wagner, but the Prussian spy was adamant to his timing and skeptical of Munchausen's theory.

"Redmond." Said Karl. "I've organized our support for now. The tip we're acting on may be compromised or obsolete by tomorrow. We must act now; if all goes well we could finish this mission before nightfall.

"Today is the day of the big hunt for the Beast of Gevaudan, thus our musket fire will not draw unwanted civilian attention. We must do it this afternoon. Now that Fritz is no longer with us, I'm going to need you by my side more than ever; so please don't tell me your frightened of an old horror story."

The Irishman would do his duty despite his reservations. What field support their mission had, amounted to one man Karl had discreetly hired to carry and reload the many muskets brought along.

Earlier in the day, Redmond was introduced to the hired bearer, his name was George Hastings, he was upper class, tall, athletic and friendly, with his long hair brushed back and tied at the nape with a black ribbon. George spoke good French, but seized a few moments with Redmond, while traveling, to converse in English. The Irish spy felt it prudent to not mention anything about his work in Prussian Intelligence or of Munchausen and his League and tactfully hid his resentment at, after being sent by Prussians into France, finding himself in the company of a bloody Englishman.

Their hike took them to a large tree where a French teenager awaited them, Karl approached the figure and whispered while showing the sketch of Fernand Wagner. A motion by the youth bade the group to follow him; after half an hours travel through the French countryside, all came to a halt at the base of a hill.

"There is where I saw him, several times, he probably has a campsite amongst those hills." Said the youth.

"Are you sure it was this man?" Asked Karl showing the sketch.

"They call me Jacques Forget Not for good reason. When I see a face it leaves an image in my head, which registers loud when I see it again; when you showed me that sketch, there was a loud register. Your man is somewhere in those hills."

"Jacques Forget Not." Inquired Redmond. "If you do live up to your name, you can give a description that the sketch doesn't show."

"There is only one distinct thing about him and his friends." Replied the youth. "They wear wolfskins."

"Thank you Jacques."

Karl took out a bag of coins, poured half of them into his hand, then presented the handful to Jacques Forget Not; he took the payment then frowned.

"This is only half the payment you offered." He complained.

"You will get the whole amount after we get our man." Answered Karl. "In the end, if your tip is true you will reap the full amount. You can hang around here if you like but stay out of our way."

The youth known as Jacques Forget Not sat down on a log and adopted a look that projected his bitter grudge.

Karl, Redmond and George ascended the first hill to find that it interconnected with a range of similar hills, the Prussian led them to a wall of rocks just under a tall peak.

"You two stay here for now." Said Karl. "I will scout the apex alone. Hastings make sure all muskets are loaded and ready for use."

George gave an amateur salute then began his assigned duty; Redmond helped out. One musket needed reloading; the Englishman showed his proficiency at this task while conversing in English.

"This countryside is beautiful Redmond." He said. "You know when I go back home I'm going to lift my maiden fair of her feet and bring her here to live. England may have its pleasant green, but France has a verdant splendor."

"You may have to wait until the wolf hysteria fades away." Said Redmond.

Karl returned with spyglass in hand. "I've seen them; wolfmen, they're here. Come with me, both of you."

Over the hill's peak was a panoramic view, but all that interested the spies was a campfire on a nearby hill; Redmond focused the spyglass on the spot to see that two wolfmen were manning a perimeter post. The two spies agreed that they could make their way downhill to a tree that would get both guards within musket range, this was achieved without notice. Both spies aimed their muskets towards the campfire and fired, hitting their targets.

George took the spent muskets and handed ready muskets to each spy, they then rushed to the campfire. Both wolfmen were dead, but neither was Fernand Wagner.

"The others would've heard the musket shots." Said Karl "They will come here to investigate, our man might be among them. We will take up positions by those rocks."

The rocks were just short of the current hill's peak; Karl, Redmond and George each found a crevice to hide in. Sure enough wolfmen passed them and approached the campfire to investigate, there were six of them. Karl and Redmond stepped out of their covers and fired their muskets into the backs of the group, eliminating two wolfmen. Immediately, the two spies dropped their spent firearms and unslung the reserve muskets, firing them and taking one more enemy each out of the equation. Of the two remaining targets, only one had a musket, he poised to return fire but a shot from within the rocks killed him; George Hasting could use a musket as well as he could reload it. The last wolfman drew his pistol and fired, but with intermediate range and bad aim his shot went wide; Karl rushed the figure and despite the mark's flight downhill, got within close range and blew him away with a pistol shot.

All targets were dead, at least they were after Karl slashed their throats for good measure, but once again neither were Fernand Wagner.

"He is sure to be in the next lot, we must take new positions." Said Karl.

A rush over the hilltop sent the three men to cover behind an earthwork wall overlooking the hillside beyond; what they saw was a large cave mouth with illuminations inside.

"I don't get it." Said Redmond. "That cave seems to have campfires inside but their is no smoke coming out."

"Concern yourself with that later Redmond." Said Karl. "Look down there."

Five wolfmen were approaching the earth wall from below; Karl focused his spyglass on them.

"He's with them." Announced Karl. "I saw him. Hastings have you finished the reloads?"

"Yes." Answered the Englishman. "But look over there."

George was pointing at two more wolfmen approaching from the left. It was clear then that if they engage Wagner's group here they will be outflanked. Karl moved the team to a new location back over the hilltop where rocks provided individual cover. A mirror allowed the Prussian to monitor, without breaking cover, the two wolfmen approaching from the left. The time had come for action, Karl pocketed his mirror, gave Redmond the signal, then raised his musket; the Irishman did likewise; together they fired at their designated targets. Both wolfmen dropped dead on the spot. Going over to the fallen duo to make sure they were dead and to seize their guns was ruled out.

"Wagner and four others will be here any second." Said Karl, handing his spent musket over to George and taking a loaded one. "They will spread out once they see the bodies, try to take out at least one before they do so."

Karl pointed to a nearby ravine. "See that ravine Redmond? You and Hastings hide on the edge behind that rock, they can't get behind you there. I will be around here somewhere.

"We're almost there Redmond. You've done very well, keep it up." Karl patted the Irish rogue on the arm then went to his position carrying two ready muskets and a pistol.

The ravine was rocky and covered in grass; its slope was steep but climbable, the designated rock appeared to provide good cover. Each of the two men undertook reloading a musket.

George Hastings was informed that this job was support for a mercenary mission and it would involve killing. He had heard about the wolfmen cult and how they were made up of criminals, there were no reservations about supporting an effort that eliminated them. The money Karl paid him was good, it would help him set up house in this beautiful country.

"Where did you learn to shoot?" Asked Redmond.

"Hunting grouse on the moors." Replied George. "And you?"

"The Seven Years War."

"Really? Top show old chap."

Five figures got to the hilltop; it was at the very instant they noticed their two dead comrades that Karl fired his gun, killing one of the five. Redmond followed suit immediately taking out another wolfman. The remaining three figures scattered amongst the rocks, Redmond bolted forward without receiving a freshly loaded musket, he unslung his reserve weapon and put his back to an adjacent monolith.

The Irish rogue had guessed the course taken by the scattering wolfman nearest to him, he appeared high up on the rock that overlooked the ravine; he had climbed it to get an advantageous position over the battlefield and a shot at anyone hiding in the ravine. Redmond's new position gave him a perfect shot, he took it, sending the struck enemy on the high rock to a fatal fall into the ravine.

Loaded muskets were with George, Redmond rushed back to frantically exchange his spent firearms for ready ones, seizing the latter, he clumsily dropped the used guns; they fell down into the ravine.

"We may need those muskets George." Said Redmond. "You must go down there, get them and reload them. I will take an extra musket."

George didn't argue, he began his descent down the slope. The Irishman was now carrying three muskets and a pistol as he cautiously probed the rocks for the enemy.

Karl employed his soldier's judgment well, he managed to get one of the remaining scattered figures into his line of fire. The musket shot sent the wolfman sprawling against a monolith, but he wasn't down, despite being mortally wounded, he was slowly raising his gun to return fire. Acting fast, Karl drew his remaining loaded weapon, his pistol and fired, finishing the wolfman off; but not before he expended his musket clumsily into the ground.

Redmond heard the gunshots, knowing that area would be the centre of attention, he combed the vantage points the enemy would be most likely exploiting; the stratagem paid off, he soon noticed Fernand Wagner, with a torn seam on his wolfskin's shoulder aiming a musket at what must be Karl. The Irishman had no time to aim, a wild shot at the wolfman sent a musket ball into the breech of Fernand's gun. The powder within the firing pan exploded in the wolfman's face, throwing him backwards. Whatever shot came out of the burst firearm went wide.

The two spies converged on their quarry, Redmond tossed a loaded musket to Karl while discarding his spent one and unslinging the third. Fernand Wagner was on his back nursing a painful burn on the cheek.

"Fernand Wagner." Said Karl. "You have been tried in absentia by a German military court and found guilty of desertion and multiple murders. The sentence is death, to be carried out immediately. May God have mercy on your soul."

Lock hammers were cocked as the two musket were aimed at the fugitive. A sudden crack of thunder crashed the moment, distracting the two executioners for a second, they were about to complete the task, when an invisible force tore both firearms out of their grasp and flung the weapons aside.

"Excuse me gentlemen." Said a robed figure five meters away. "But you are doing great mischief to my order."

A colorful robe adorning a colorless man with a bitter expression was the figure confronting the two spies. Redmond recognized the ghostly face in Cagliostro's firebowl on the interrupting man, this was Joseph Curwen, the warlock Munchausen was after. Neither spy saw Curwen approach, they noted that the next wave of wolfmen reinforcements would not arrive for at least five minutes, his presence was sudden, as if he arrived on a bolt of lightning that came with that thunder.

"It's not about you or your order. It's about him." Explained Redmond indicating the recovering figure of Fernand Wagner. "We just want him."

"Do you now?" Replied Curwen angrily. "I know my men have criminal pasts, that's just fine, but they are my men. It's bad enough that you go after one my loyal followers, but what's this; you wage war against my order, murder half its members to get him, and you want me to stand aside?"

Eye contact and secret gestures from Karl gave the Irishman a signal for timed action. The Prussian made a swift arm movement with a flick of his wrist, hurling a dagger at the warlock, who with a simple move of his right hand sent an invisible force to deflect the missile away. Redmond acted when Karl did, drawing his pistol and firing at Curwen; the dagger had just been deflected when the shot began its motion, the spy hoped the former had distracted the warlock long enough to get the shot off; it did. Joseph Curwen's left hand made a swift movement, slowing down the projectile's velocity to a mid air standstill. it then turned red hot and melted, while suspended, into nothing.

Both spies were stunned by this sorcerous nullification of their efforts. Joseph Curwen whispered some incantation then pointed an index finger at each spy, an upward motion of his arms had both Karl and Redmond elevated fifteen feet in the air. Fernand Wagner got up and moved behind the warlock to stare at his helpless would be executioners.

"What arrogance." Yelled Curwen; his look of bitterness became one of furious rage. "These cloak and dagger efforts are an insult. You want to get me? Do something extremely clever."

"We will. Just you wait." Said Redmond.

Joseph Curwen began a manic piercing laughter while maintaining his hold on the two spies.

"I don't think so." Said the warlock. "A couple of wastrels like you should be thrown to the wind. Off with you."

As the robed figure threw his arms forward and down, Karl and Redmond were hurled backwards, catapulted along a horizontal trajectory with great velocity. The airborne Irishman managed to turn himself around to see where he was going, the hilly landscape passed beneath him; his course was taking him straight into a large pine tree. All attempts to warn Karl of the impending impact were drowned by the sound of the bodies cutting through the air; the Prussian had not turned around.

Redmond saw his trajectory would take him into the tree's dense side, so there was hope that he might survive this deadly flight. His hand grabbed the first branch he came to, many others scraped and whipped him, those thick branches that did not bend would knock him heavily before being torn out of the trunk by his sweeping velocity. Throughout his fast trip through the foliage, Redmond would always grope for more branches to slow himself down.

Impact with a thick branch that would only bend slightly and not break, turned the Irishman's course from horizontal to vertical, he was falling. Continuing desperately to grope for handholds that would slow or even stop his descent, Redmond would hit many branches that would either bend as he rolled off them, break as they collapsed under his weight or hold steadfast as he bounced off their strong structure. Inevitably their were no more branches for him to seize or to break his fall, which ended with a face down thud on the ground.

A second thud on the ground occurred nearby, it was Karl, he was unconscious and on his back. Redmond was in agony, multiple hits, abrasions and cuts were all over his body, which in an hour, he figured, would be covered in bruises. His nose was bleeding profusely, he took out his handkerchief to treat the flow. It hurt when he moved, despite this Redmond soon dragged himself to Karl, attempts to wake the Prussian proved futile when it became clear that he was dead, his neck broken.

"So you found him then?" Asked Jacques Forget Not who arrived on the scene. "You found him?"

Despite a pain racked chest the Irishman managed to talk.

"Yes. We found him, but his leader found us."

"Well, that's too bad." Said Jacques.

"Help me." Pleaded Redmond while reaching out a hand for aid.

Jacques advanced toward the unfortunate spies, swept Redmond's hand aside then pushed him away from Karl, ignoring the Irishman's agonized response. The French youth tore open what was left of Karl's tattered shirt, reached in and pulled out the bag of coins.

"This is what you owe me." Said Jacques, while pocketing the bag.

"Jacques, I need help." Pleaded Redmond again. "I can barely move, I'm in great pain."

"You may not be French." Said Jacques. "But I can tell that you are an aristocrat; I saw you at the Marquis de St. Evremonde's chateau. The gluttony you indulge in while we starve and way you expect to have the people at your beck and call without question is disgusting. I look forward to the day when your kind will answer to the people for their sickening high and mighty attitude. Don't you expect help from me. Goodbye."

The youth walked off; Redmond yelled out his name several times in a futile hope for his return and aid.

It was getting dark; wind whistled through the trees like a ghostly howl, shadows of writhing branches took on the appearance of dark tendrils reaching forth to clutch an unfortunate soul; like Redmond. The pain racked Irishman was regaining his ability to move without pain too slowly.

Redmond was still in proximity to Joseph Curwen's abode, all the more reason to get out of the area, he was vulnerable where he was; the warlock could come and finish him off, or send a wolfman, or The Beast, or even, when it got dark, the werewolf that came so close to execution. The Irish rogue was alone and helpless, no one knew where he was, he had failed his mission and his partners were dead. He began to evaluate his luck, a quality that kept him alive during the Seven Years War while others around him dropped dead; it also gave him Baron Munchausen's favor and by a narrow margin allowed him to survive being catapulted across the sky.

Good luck figured Redmond Barry, he had a lot of good luck, but had he asked too much of it? Wealth and fortune can be gained through luck, the Irish rogue began to wonder will he ever see his grand fortune materialize? He had to live for tomorrow first and the wolfman bearing down on him with a butcher's knife was cause to doubt he would.

Running for it was not possible, Redmond could still not move without pain, he lost his pistol during the flight, a dagger was his only defense but he had virtually no faculty to use it. A sadistic grin split the wolfman's face, he approached the near helpless Irishman and with a curt backhand, knocked the pathetically wielded blade away. The wolfman knelt over Redmond then, with a cruel laugh, raised the butcher's knife and stabbed down; the Irishman grabbed the threatening wrist and tried to keep the blade from his body. Shaking off the weak hold on his wrist, the wolfman pinned the interfering hand under his knee and, as his cruel laughter got louder, raised the knife for its fatal plunge. A gunshot sound suddenly broke the laughter, the wolfman keeled over with a musket ball in his putrid heart.

"Redmond. Redmond are you all right?" Yelled the voice.

George Hastings appeared with a smoking musket, he approached the wounded spy and gathered his condition from the difficult mumblings. A brief examination of Karl revealed he was dead with multiple fractures. Examining Redmond showed no discernible broken bones or concussion, but countless bruises, abrasions and cuts.

"Your luck is astounding Redmond." Commented George. "Come on I better get you to hospital."

The Englishman lifted the wounded spy to his feet, then placed Redmond's arm over the supporting neck. As they traveled to the nearest road, George told how he recovered the fallen muskets and got back to the edge of the ravine in time to see the two spies suspended in mid air, hurled by an invisible force to the distant tree. The man in the colored robe and the wolfman with the powder burn on his face combed the rocks to see their dead fellows. Sneaking away without being seen, George made for the big tree where the flight appeared to end. When the Englishman stopped to reload a musket, he noticed a wolfman rushing to the same tree he was heading for, George tailed the henchman; the rest Redmond knows.

"George Hastings is a valuable friend to those who are disadvantaged." Mumbled Redmond.

They got to the nearest road by nightfall, a coach or cart should soon pass and give them a lift. Redmond took the Englishman's hand and thanked him heartily, then stated that the place he should be taken to is the Chateau de Lune.


	17. Chapter 17

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Chapter 28

This Virtue had murder in his eyes, he was Patience and he moved in front of his target, Juliette who was bound to the crossbars. Just a few stabs with his knife and his duty would be fulfilled.

"What a great way to catch you and deliver your comeuppance." He said. "Infiltrating the ranks of your enemy has brought me you on a silver platter; filthy whore."

"Do you know where Chastity and Temperance are?" Asked Juliette.

Stunned by the question, Patience lowered his blade.

"No. Where are they?" He inquired.

Juliette had almost finished cutting the rope that bound her, she had to apply the sharp stud subtly because Patience was staring at her. The question will only buy her a few seconds.

"Both are dead." Said Juliette although not certain about Chastity. "Killed in a vain attempt to get me."

A sweeping kick from the courtesan knocked over the hot coals stand. Patience turned his head to see the spilt embers and tools then after several seconds, suddenly felt a rope coil around his neck and tighten. Juliette had finished severing the bond, releasing both hands, one with a length of rope attached to it. While the Virtue's attention was turned she quickly wrapped the cut bond around his throat and pulled tight, clenching the taut rope in the fingers of the attached hand.

Her next two actions were simultaneous, she seized his wrist that held the knife, keeping the blade from her body; also her legs manipulated around his, while a shift forward of her weight induced a trip sending the Virtue falling on his back on top of the spilt coals.

A yelp of pain was cut short when Juliette tightened the makeshift noose further while with her other hand pressed Patience's knife hand into nearby hot coal; the resulting burn caused him to relinquish his grip on the weapon. The pain frenzied assassin lifted himself off the hot coals to bring the strangling courtesan underneath him rather than on top of him; Juliette seized the predicted moment to wrap her legs about his waist and shift the struggle to floorspace away from the knife and the embers.

Patience's effort to reverse positions worked but it left one arm pinned under the courtesan who was strangling him, the other could not escape the restraining grip of her hand, it held his sleeve and kept it stretched out so he could not employ his brute strength. Juliette placed her rope arm over his neck, this loosened the noose a little, allowing a little breathing; the woman then brought his head down to her face, she immediately seized his lips in hers, then tightened the stranglehold again.

Juliette was not going to put her tongue in his mouth, he would bite it; it was glorious enough that he was going to breath his last breathe into her mouth while, with her legs wrapped around his waist, she began some upward pelvic thrusts into his crotch. Patience could not lift his head up to escape the forced kiss, the rope arm clamped him down; nor could he extricate himself from the pelvic activity that induced erotic sensation strangely amplified by this asphyxiation.

Both of the Virtue's arms were indisposed one was still held by the courtesan's grip on its sleeve, the other was pinned down beneath her; Patience struggled to free it but it had both hers and his weight on top of it, also the woman's elbow pressed on the trapped limb, keeping it where it was; he did manage to pinch her skin. Juliette felt the pinch but her lifestyle taught her to re-interpret such stinging pain, what she did was maintain her hold on Patience and bring the erotic stimulus to a new frenzied level. The pelvic thrusts became more vigorous, the kiss more passionate and the constricting rope as tight as her strength could manage. She was going to do to him what Humility almost did to her.

Patience was feeling a sensation so overpowering that nothing else mattered; the pain from his burns, the grief from the other Virtue's deaths, the failure of his mission, the corruption of his soul and his inability to breath; all became null concerns. Only the magnificence of this feeling mattered; his pinch was relaxed as was his gripped arm. Juliette kept her eyes open and, with keen delight, observed the assassins progress from struggle to surrender, she maintained her efforts until the Virtue went limp in her clutches. To be sure he was dead she maintained the rope's tension for a further minute before she untied it from her hand, felt for his pulse, he was definitely dead.

Juliette stood up and grinned, this apparent ultimate victory over the Virtues came with its own ecstasy; she felt deliciously wicked.

"Look out men of France." She said. "Here I come, and I've got a new powerful sensation to give you all."

The amorous courtesan broke into an ebullient laughter as she gloated on her fallen victim.

"So much for virtue."

Picking up the knife, Juliette went to the chamber door, it opened easily without creaking. The cavern was wide and illuminated by torches that had no fire, but an unexplainable brightness to them; she tried touching one, it wasn't hot at all, not even warm. A table had an armed crossbow on it, ready to fire; Juliette took the weapon.

There were no wolfmen about; they must be all engaged in that action on the nearby hill; this left Juliette free to make for the cave mouth and freedom. She passed the altar where she awoke and a chamber door that had Keep Out emblazoned on it. Curiosity got the better of her and she entered the room to find a desk, a worktable, a drawing board and several easels with sketches of monstrous images on them; papers written in foreign languages were neatly placed throughout the room. A large book caught her attention, its gilded title on the cover, The Necronomicon, Juliette saw this book during her transcendental vision, it was the major source of Curwen's knowledge on how to tap the unearthly powers of Yog Sothoth.

Although this room was illuminated with the mysterious bright torches, Juliette did find an oil lamp. She doused all paperwork on the tables, desk and easels with the lamp's flammable liquid, reserving some for the pages of The Necronomicon. With a strike of flint she set alight a rolled up sheet of paper, then used it to set alight the dreaded book's pages, leaving it open so it would burn faster. The paper torch then ignited the spilt lamp oil, setting the whole room alight.

Juliette left the burning room and headed for the cave mouth, she noticed two guards there, watching the hills outside. Smoke was billowing out of the private chamber they would soon smell it and investigate, the courtesan hid in an alcove. The two guards hurried towards the room when they noticed there was a fire, as one rushed to tend the flames, the other stopped half way waiting for a verbal report. He was ten feet from Juliette; with balletic strides she tiptoed behind him and drove the knife into his back where the heart would be. A piercing yelp was uttered before the fellow dropped dead. The other wolfman, turning his attention away from the fire, saw the backstabbing courtesan, then raised his musket; Juliette fired the crossbow, sending a deadly bolt into his ribcage, he hurtled backwards dead.

"Wow." Said Juliette, exuberantly holding the crossbow. "I have got to get myself one of these."

There were no other bolts for the crossbow in sight, so the courtesan had to discard her beloved weapon. She retrieved the knife from the guard's back and donned his wolfskin, taking a musket was ruled out because if it was used during her flight, it would reveal her location to the inevitable pursuers. No other guards were at the cave mouth. Juliette could see many wolfmen in the distance on a neighboring hill; she exited the cave and made for the right, which seemed to offer the best cover while fleeing Joseph Curwen and his henchmen.

Twilight was upon the hills, it would soon be dark all the better for her escape. Smoke began billowing out of the cave, the warlock would soon notice and rush back, Juliette had to put as much distance between her and the wolfmen's lair as possible, she kept to the low grounds, making sure a hillside was shielding her from sight.

Darkness came with a sense of relief, she would be much harder to find now. All she had to do was keep going in one direction till she finds a road and hopefully a lift back to the Chateau de Lune. Two burning torches appeared on a nearby hilltop; they were looking for her; she hid behind a boulder, not daring to run for it. The torch bearers went back the way they came, almost as if they were recalled, the courtesan would have been seen had she ran; although it was dark, the full moon shone its light on the hills and vales.

Juliette soon lost all sense of time and direction as she made her way through the labyrinthine hills, they appeared endless. She could not even tell if she was going in a straight line or around in circles, to regain her orientation she needed to reach a hilltop and search the area for a road or landmark. A series of lupine howls echoed throughout the moonlit night.

The ascent up the hillside was exhausting, it was steep. When the woman got to the apex she was relieved to see that no burning torches were visible, it seems that Curwen's men had given up looking for her. There were no familiar landmarks or homesteads to be seen and no obvious roads apparent; in the extreme distance there seemed a possible road, she would travel in that direction after a rest.

Howls once again echoed in the night, they were closer this time. Juliette began to scan the countryside and sure enough spotted that which she feared; two blazing red eyes attached to a huge dark shape was rushing across the hills in her direction, The Beast of Gevaudan was after her.

There were no trees in the vicinity only rocks, Juliette picked out a monolith in the distance that could provide sanctuary if she could climb it. A panicked rush down the hillside proved to be hazardous, many small rocks protruded from the slope, her fast strides down a steep gradient made it difficult to navigate through these, she soon tripped and fell onto hard jutting granite. The woman was in pain but did not forget the desperation of her plight, she quickly picked herself up and proceeded at an even faster pace to the designated safe place.

A brief look back showed that The Beast was on the hilltop and closing in on her, this divided attention caused another stumble which lost valuable seconds. She could hear the thudding footsteps getting closer and a fierce guttural growl. Juliette returned to her flight for safety, then realised with horror that she wasn't going to make it; the monolith was too far and the wolf too close. Her only weapon was the knife, she knew that a toothpick would be equally effective against the monstrous bulk.

Her only defence strategy, formulated on the spot under sheer panic, was to step onto a carpet of loose stones on the slope, hoping the wolf would lose his footing on them and tumble down the hillside. Juliette followed her desperate plan but found the stones could not be traversed without carefully judging each step, she was out of time. The Beast's hot breathe warmed her neck.

Suddenly a force impacted with the huge wolf as a second savage entity jumped out of the darkness and pounced on The Beast; the dual growls of ferocity were frightening as they were earsplitting. Juliette was shocked by the sudden impact next to her, she stumbled and went for twenty foot slide down the slope of loose stones. She could see the commotion now, silhouetted in the full moon, were two lupine figures locked in savage combat.

The other creature looked much like a larger than usual wolf, but it was a midget when compared to The Beast; what was odd about it was that it often stood erect on its hind legs and could jump onto its opponent's back with them, an advantage used often since it was greatly outmatched in size. As for jaws, the second wolf had a dependable set which could bite viscously and, while salivating bloody drool, tear at its larger antagonist who again had the advantage with wider jowls and huge teeth.

From below it was like a spotlight shining from the full moon on to this duel of monstrous savagery. The two lupine shapes melded in a frenzied grapple that brought both to the ground; as each snapped furiously for the other's vital parts, they rolled together down the slope of loose stones towards the woman. Juliette quickly searched with her feet for stable ground, she found it and jumped clear from the rolling mass of fury.

This wolf fight gave her valuable time; with torn feet, she made her way to the monolith. Fingers and toes frantically groped the rock for holds by which she could climb it; she had slow success and feared the moment when wolf jaws would close on her legs and drag her down to a horrible death. Finally she reached a flat top that allowed her to sigh, relax and watch the alpha male contest.

Loose stones prevented the second wolf from engaging his maneuverability advantage, he even stumbled repeatedly on the unstable surface; this eventually brought him underneath the huge bulk of The Beast. Massive black jowls snapped at the gatecrashing lupine and soon caught a foreleg and bit with crushing force. The growls of the second wolf became a high pitched yelp of pain which echoed throughout the hills.

The Beast, used his jaws next to seize its opponent's hindquarters and drag him to a new position, growling resistance amounted to nothing effective as the hind legs were off the ground and the jowls could not reach the red eyed head. When the dragging was done a new round of savage conflict erupted. Juliette could no longer see the fight, a rock obscured her view of the new position, but the growling sounds revealed that The Beast of Gevaudan had clear superiority and a merciless fury. Soon the yelps of pain from the second wolf were heard repeatedly, they were so high pitched that the woman had to block her ears, this was an operatic aria of pain that resonated over the area and she was at the centre of it.

Hands left the woman's ears soon after the yelps subsided into a series of long drawn out howling groans, the fallen lupine was clearly in abject pain from its mauling by The Beast. In the moonlight, Juliette saw the victorious black wolf limp away towards its lair; it had suffered several injuries including one to a forepaw. The courtesan stayed upon the monolith, despite the constant haunting howls of the agonised second wolf.

Flaming torches began to appear in the distance after a while; Juliette realised that Curwen's men were still searching for her; the acoustic noise of the sad painful howls would lead them here. She climbed down from the monolith and moved to catch a peek at the second wolf; it had many bloody wounds, protruding bones and crushed limbs. When the poor wolf sensed her it resumed its savage growl and threshing fury but could not move, The Beast did everything except kill it.

Juliette headed in the direction of the vaguely seen road in the distance, her torn feet could support her without pain as long as she trod only on soft grass. She figured the second wolf would have killed her just as surely as The Beast, she was saved because two rival forces of savagery got within striking distance of her at the same time. Careful strides, necessitated by torn feet, slowed her down; the torches were gaining, they had passed the site of the lupine battle without stopping, she had to get a move on.

An increased pace became reckless and eventually the fleeing courtesan stubbed her tender foot on a jutting rock; her cry of agony was restrained too late. Two flaming torches veered straight towards her position; she tried to run but desperation without caution lead to a hard trip over another rock; picking herself up was coupled with a brief look back; the torches were gone. Had they not seen her and turned away to another hillside? She hoped so very much.

The night was getting chilly, her clothing and stolen wolfskin were providing inadequate warmth. She was approaching a large boulder when a musket shot whizzed past her and hit the rock; two wolfmen were close; they hadn't veered away, they just put out their torches to sneak up on her. Juliette rushed to a course that put the boulder between her and the shooters; she could see no nearby cover to employ, all she could do was keep a reasonable distance from her pursuers despite her exhaustion and sore feet.

A look back while running revealed that the two wolfmen had passed the boulder, one was reloading while chasing her, the other had stopped and was aiming to shoot. Juliette hit the dirt and heard the hiss of the fired musket ball over her head; she quickly got up to run with all the effort she could muster. Joseph Curwen, in his anger over the fire, must have ordered that the courtesan be killed.

Juliette ran fast, without caution or direction, just the desperate need to put distance between her and those who were trying to murder her. An unseen rock tripped her up, the hard fall knocking her senses into stunned helplessness. The pursuing pair got to close range of her, then aimed their armed weapons. Two muskets fired and the two wolfmen dropped dead.

Hawkeye and Chingachook, with smoking muskets, approached the recovering woman and lifted Juliette to her feet, Baron Munchausen was in front of her, he opened his arms.

"Dear Lady." He said. "We have been so worried. How joyous it is find you safe and in our company again."

She fell into the Baron's arms and hugged him warmly, he had to disengage when she began kissing him. Juliette gave a warm embrace and passionate kiss to both Hawkeye and Chingachook. A fur coat was placed on her from behind by a fourth savior, she turned to see Jean Baptiste Grenouille, he kept her at bay with a stiff arm on her shoulder as the matching hat was handed to her.

As she took the furred headpiece she realised that these were the sable adornments of Chastity, the Virtue whose fate was uncertain after being thrown of her horse. Juliette looked into Jean's eyes and grinned as she figured out what had happened to the female assassin. The courtesan swept aside the obstructing arm and aggressively embraced the protesting perfumer.

"The wolves will not eat me today." She said to herself.


	18. Chapter 18

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Chapter 29

Report: Observation Post Providence Rhode Island

After days of watching the inactive Joseph Curwen, this detail went from lazy man's delight to nervous man's horror. It was on a cloudy afternoon that I saw and heard, from my discreet distance, the servants chanting the same two words over and over; Curwen himself actually got up and did the same chanting although he kept his deadpan look. The words repeated in chorus were Yog Sothoth, all other words chanted were foreign and untranscribable.

A grey hue suddenly darkened the clouds, then they got darker, and then almost black rendering the day like night after a fleeting twilight. Wind began to rush through the town and hills as if the air itself was fleeing some oncoming terror.

The wierd hollerin' became louder, it was emanating from all around me, as if the hills themselves were joining in or even worse, many people buried within were the choir for this ancient litany.

This frightful situation lasted a few minutes; the wind settled, clouds brightened up, daylight returned and best of all the hollerin' ceased. Joseph Curwen resumed his seat and morbid inactivity, while the servants went on with their duties.

Darn tootin'. It is time for the next pigeon to fly.

Yours sincerely Rip Van Winkle

Hawkeye read the report and hoped his lazy friend would remain at that post despite the scary happening. Juliette was sitting beside the trapper and matched the reported chanting in Providence with what she heard during her transcendental experience. Since her rescue she had told The League all about her captivity, escape and near mauling by The Beast and a second lupine figure. That was last night, it was morning now and she was refreshed.

She had heard of Jean's encounter with Joseph Curwen, though she wasn't sure how honestly the perfumer told of the meeting. When he got back to the hunting camp he informed The Baron of Juliette's capture; M demanded that he immediately track down Curwen's location with Hawkeye, Chingachook and himself following ready for a desperate rescue effort. Alan Breck was badly wounded during the hunt and was placed on a cart bound for hospital.

Jean had no trouble tracking the warlock's scent and led The League a fair way, but shortly after nightfall the perfumer announced that he had isolated Juliette's scent and it was leading away from Curwen's. M asked the perfumer to zero in on the courtesan's location, he did so, despite the smell of The Beast in the distance. Once they reached her vicinity, musket shot sounds revealed the need for immediate action. The League members closed in on the acoustic source and saw Juliette's desperate flight from the armed wolfmen. Hawkeye and Chingachook aimed their muskets and eliminated one pursuer each.

All that happened throughout the day was told to each other during the trip back to The Chateau de Lune, where they found Redmond Barry battered and bruised after his own encounter with Joseph Curwen. The Chateau staff had taken the Irishman in after a passing coach had driven in and handed him over to the doorman. Redmond explained his mission and its near miss, the sorcerous intervention of the warlock and the misfortune from then on. He also requested to join The Baron's gathering in going after Joseph Curwen. M advised the bruised spy to rest in his newly allotted guest room and await medical treatment.

Dr Benjamin Rathery was the practitioner who arrived to treat Redmond, when he examined the aggregate of his patient's injuries he unpacked a series of salves, bandages and medicines knowing it was going to be a long house call.

Hawkeye began to teach Juliette a few self defense strategies, like what to do when an enemy tackles you from behind. It was an awkward lesson, the courtesan seemed to enjoy being grabbed, she would swoon and gyrate seductively; Hawkeye wondered who was teaching who.

Rip Van Winkle's report was left on the table, M would soon retrieve it place it in his locked desk along with the other documents: police reports, hospital reports, relevant correspondence and civilian tipster reports.

Baron Munchausen was in his upper courtyard having morning tea with an English envoy. After some casual conversation, the Englishman relayed the displeasure his British superiors felt at The Baron's lack of success in hunting The Beast of Gevaudan; a discontent aggravated by the fact that an English lady was a recent victim.

Whatever negativity generated by this drama was offset by the friendly presence of a cat the envoy brought with him from England. The adorable feline brushed itself along side Munchausen's legs and arms then sat in his lap while meowing cheerfully while being patted. The cat was a male and was called Tom.

A casual glance to his right revealed to M the presence of Jean Baptiste Grenouille at the courtyards edge. The perfumer had spent most of the night distilling and mixing various scents and using them to prepare what The Baron could only call strategic concoctions. Jean was too far away to eavesdrop; his interest in the meeting seemed odd. When the meeting was over, the perfumer was not around.

"Thank you Tristam Shandy and good luck with the autobiography." The Baron said his farewell to the envoy who went down the chateau steps and into his coach for a brisk departure.

Chingachook entered Redmond Barry's room to find the Irishman sleeping in his many bandages, plasters and poultices. The doctor found no evidence of fractures, internal bleeding or concussion, which means the rogue's luck is unbelievable considering what happened to him. Benjamin Rathery did state a high doubt that Redmond would be fit for action in the morning.

A Mohican totem was placed at each end of the bed, Chingachook then lightly rattled a gourd while chanting for aid from The Great Spirit. Redmond slept throughout this ritual; to the Indian he was a brave man, selfish but brave; his courage and luck were presently channeled in the same direction as that of The League. When the ritual was over Chingachook removed the totems and left the room.

At The Baron's private armory M presented Juliette with a weapon she had become passionate about, a crossbow; he had to keep it between them to stop her jumping into his arms and smothering him with kisses in gratitude. She handled the weapon like it was a lover, despite it being unloaded she suddenly spun around and aimed it at Jean. Quite baffled, Juliette had sensed Chastity, one of the Seven Virtues behind her, but only saw the perfumer testing one of his latest cosmetics.

Munchausen invited the courtesan down to the firing range for instruction and practice; this went well, she developed a reasonable aim in so short a time; what was odd was the ecstatic moan she would make when firing.

Hawkeye and Chingachook sat down on a balcony seat and viewed the French countryside, though they both found it beautiful they missed the forests of America and the buffalo plains.

The Mohican elder went on to state his opinion of the people. "The folk of this faraway continent kill far more animals than they need; there is little respect for the natural balance they are a part of; they will till the land until it dies, then wonder what they did wrong. There are impractical circular shapes and monstrosities in their long term architecture; animals are enslaved and harvested, there is no spiritual connection with them; there is much looking back to unreal or exaggerated histories to find ones self esteem, most people allow themselves to be lead by silk clad chiefs, and most of these don't have any qualities for the role.

"Candide's warning is becoming ever more real; just by being here I feel like we're in an earthquake; and soon a tidal wave will sweep us away."

"We will not be here much longer." Said Hawkeye. "This mission should be finished today. I have developed a taste for cheese souffle though."

"The Great Spirit called to me." Announced Chingachook. "I tried to get his aid in helping Redmond recover. I did not expect to feel it so far from our homeland, but Great Spirit had something urgent to say and called from across ocean. It said that horrible darkness will storm over plains and forests, it will never end: coyotes will howl in pain; eagles will cringe in rocks never daring to fly; deer will not stop running till they drop dead from exhaustion and gophers will stay underground and starve. All tribes will no longer be one with the land, will forever fear being crushed by eerie darkness. We have been called to service, us and those we fight with have a duty to destroy he who will bring this darkness.

"We have to be here my son, This Joseph Curwen must be dealt with, his wolfskin tribe defeated or no more venison stew or cheese souffle."

Dr Benjamin Rathery returned to the Chateau to check up on last nights patient, after examination he appeared to The Baron dumbfounded.

"Baron." He said. "My medical opinions given last night have been ridiculed. Redmond Barry has made a complete recovery. I was going to recommend hospitalizing for a week but he is fresh as a daisy, the bruises remain visible but no longer hurt him, all infections have gone, his dressings are no longer required. He is fit for action."

Munchausen paid the doctor then visited the Irish Rogue to find him walking quite comfortably.

"Still want to come with us Redmond?" Asked M

"Certainly Baron." He replied. "I feel like I can take on the world."

"Well actually; you will be saving it. Get dressed and I will issue your weapons."

M began to leave the room then turned again to the Irishman.

"Oh. Welcome to The League Redmond Barry."


	19. Chapter 19

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Chapter 30

This time they were they were taking the fight to their enemy. The League knew where Joseph Curwen's base of operations was, so now this bunch of assorted personages will march to his domain and end his diabolical machinations.

Munchausen's coaches had taken the group as far as he saw fit, the roads did not reach the cave, so there will be a two hour walk. That suited The Baron fine, he did not want the warlock to hear them coming, even though he would no doubt be expecting them.

Apart from members of The League there was one of The Chateau servants carrying food and water. Also there was a horse being led with its reins by a walking British military cadet whose name was Jack Absolute. Munchausen had convinced the teenager to conceal his dazzling dress uniform, since he was in a country that still remembers the Seven Years War.

"Thank you for your mature wisdom Baron." Said Jack. "I'm sure that as I go through life's challenges I will find much advantage in pretending to be something that I am not."

Hawkeye and Chingchook each carried two muskets and ample reloading materials, the latter also had a bow and small quiver of arrows. Redmond Barry managed the long walk well, despite his bruises; he carried two muskets, bayonet, pistol and some extra concealed weapons. Juliette kept a pistol in her garter holster, a knife scabbard down her cleavage, and held a crossbow in her arms; yet she considered herself to be the best weapon.

Jean Baptiste Grenouille had issued a small spray bottle of knockout concoction to each League member, he had another perfume with him; he explained its concept to Munchausen as best he could but did not list the ingredients or how he acquired them. A pistol was issued to him, he kept it despite an aversion to the close gunpowder smell and his inability to aim. The perfumer carried a small animal enclosure, its occupant was Tom the cat. Jean had discreetly seized the feline during Tristam Shandy's visit, the envoy left without realising he had left Tom behind.

Baron Munchausen had armed himself to the teeth with firearms, swords, knives and a crossbow with several bolts in reserve. The League he put together was his real weapon, he believed that it would smite his foe; the carried arms he brought would merely pave the way. Jack Absolute was part of a secondary force M had planted in this area, soon they will get their signal to advance.

The dressings on Juliette's feet were masterfully applied, she did not feel the cuts and bruises received during her flight from Curwen's lair, she could hike through the hills quite comfortably. This left her free to consider Pamela Andrews B, an antagonist of hers and recent victim of The Beast, this she didn't find out till the British envoy's visit. So the wretched model of virtue met a grisly ignoble end. Juliette reviewed her own stand with regard to Pamela, this polar opposite should not be hated so much. It was Pamela Andrews story of virtue upheld that turned women's virtue into a commodity, this allowed the courtesan to make her personal fortune by fraudulently selling her virginity several hundred times. She was young enough to sell it several hundred more times. Thank you Pamela Andrews.

Another stand Juliette considered was that with Jean Baptiste Grenouille, ever since her captivity he had made an effort to keep his distance from her. There was no more discreet sniffing of her personal scent; which was just as well since she surmised him to be a malevolent scent vacuum; he minimised each interaction with her and resented the embrace she gave upon her rescue. During one of these brief interactions Jean assured the courtesan that the assassin known as Chastity was dead and said no more. When Juliette remembered sensing Chastity's presence in Jean's perfume spray, a bitter logic was formed.

Which is the bigger concern? Juliette pondered the two: she could be losing her appeal; or there's a man going around France putting woman in bottles.

To Jean Baptiste Grenouille, the vibrant courtesan was no longer a fragrant draw, her personal odor had been tainted by communion with at least one of the foul omnipotent beings from beyond. She even knew its name, Yog Sothoth. The perfumer sensed the tainting when Juliette embraced him after her rescue; she will keep her sexual magnetism and alluring quality to everybody else, but to Jean she was tainted. He will no longer seek exquisite pleasure in her scent or consider capturing it in a bottle.

A rocky set of hills turned the perfumer's attention aside from the scent trail to Curwen's lair.

"Baron." Said Jean. "I can sense a wounded wolfman in those rocks."

Munchausen saw that it would mean only a short side trip to investigate, then turned the League towards the rocks. As they got closer, Juliette recognised the monolith she climbed to escape the two lupine horrors fighting over her last night.

"The injuries smell very bad Baron." Said Jean as he zeroed in on the source.

What The League saw was a naked man who obviously had been mauled by The Beast. M immediately commanded Jack Absolute to stay back and not see this gory sight; he would have done the same to Juliette but she rushed to observe and seemed to handle the grisly vision well.

The unfortunate man had one of his arms virtually destroyed, the broken ulna protruding from the torn flesh, his hand a mess of severed finger bones dangling from chewed tendons. The torso had much skin ripped away from the ribcage which was partially exposed. Much mauling had been done in the pelvic region, one leg looked like it would detach if he was ever moved, it wouldn't be any good if it did remain attached, The Beast had chewed it into a virtual mince of flesh and bone. Only sustained shock kept this man from crying out in pain and baffling how he had not bled to death.

Redmond Barry recognised Fernand Wagner, the fugitive he was after, the face was unmolested, it even had the powderburn mark. Hawkeye and Chingachook saw the wolfman who placed Joseph Curwen's ghostly image in Cagliostro's firebowl. Jean identified the wolfman called Fernand, who carried Juliette away for the warlock. The courtesan recalled the wolfman who got passionate with her when she was tied to the crossbars, she also realised this was the exact spot where the second lupine figure lost his battle with the Beast of Gevaudon. Munchausen found himself looking upon the legendary figure from The Black Forest who gained youth and vigor through infernal dealing.

"Juliette." Said M. "This is the other wolf thing you saw last night. You may have seen him earlier as a man, but last night he was a wolf. He is Fernand Wagner he is about three hundred years old, immortal and a werewolf."

The others stood in profound disbelief, except Redmond who approached the mangalated figure.

"Is he?" Asked the spy of M.

"Yes Redmond." Answered M, predicting the question. "That is the man who became the wolf figure you saw at De Evremonde's chateau. He is the one who did those murders seven years ago while he was a wolf. He is the man you're after and he has met a nasty near end in the jaws of a bigger wolf. You can finish your mission now, it would be doing him a favor."

Redmond pointed his musket at Fernand. Several members of The League, including Redmond, tried to talk to the mauled victim before the shot but Fernand Wagner remained in a state of shock and just stared at nothing.

The musket fired and when the smoke cleared, the point blank target was very much as he was before the shot. It was as if the musket had no ball in it, yet several League members can tell when a firearm fires empty and when it fires loaded; in this case it looked much like the latter. No projectile wound was visible or evident on Fernand.

"Excuse me gentlemen. Ladies." Said a sudden presence at their side.

The man wore a scarlet coat with gold trimmings, a lustrous shining cloak and a long feather in his hat. He spoke German; Munchausen and Redmond understood him, Juliette knew enough of the language for a rough understanding, the others stood dazzled at the the loudly dressed figure. Jean found the figure's scent saturated with sulphur.

"Are you looking for this." Said the sudden presence as he opened the palm of his hand to reveal the fired musket ball. He tossed it to Redmond who caught it and saw that it was a hot, just used projectile.

"You cannot kill this man." Said the scarlet coated man indicating Fernand. "He is under contract. He will come with me."

Redmond was stunned, it appears the man had caught the musket ball in flight or he was using a dark sorcery like that of Joseph Curwen. Baron Munchausen maintained his poise.

"This man is going nowhere, he is severely injured and under sentence of death." He stated.

"Death." Said the man. "That concept has long since lost its meaning for both of us. His injuries are irrelevant he is under contract."

The man approached Fernand Wagner and took his remaining intact hand, the mauling victim who was also a werewolf came out of his shocked state then and there but did not seem to feel any pain, he just gave a look of recognition. Despite his injuries Fernand got to his feet without any apparent discomfort. He faced The League giving an indulgent individual stare at Juliette, she could not return any expression, she was dumbfounded.

Never letting go of the scarlet coated man's hand, Fernand Wagner began to walk away, his destroyed leg seemed to function as normal. The two figures achieved a few steps when Munchausen fired his pistol at the scarlet coat. The man spun around, with no sign of injury, and revealed the fired shot resting peacefully in the palm of his hand.

"You know me better than that Munchausen. I'm under contract to."

"I was demonstrating something to the others. I do know you and the hopelessness of your existence. Goodbye Faust."

Faust tossed the spent pistol round aside then turned to continue his walk with Fernand. In a matter of seconds, both figures faded away into thin air. Jean sensed the smell of sulphur vacate as quickly as it suddenly arrived.

"Redmond. Your mission is complete." Said M "At least as complete as its going to get."

The Irishman snapped out of his stunned bafflement and faced Munchausen.

"I am going to write to your boss in Berlin." Announced M. "I will explain the outcome, the difficulties, the extenuating circumstances and the reason behind the casualties. Most of all I'm going to tell them that you were good, damn good."

Munchausen patted Redmond on the back.

"You will be a useful member of The League." Continued M. "Our crucial battle is only just ahead of us."

All this was lost to the other League members who remained in stunned bafflement.


	20. Chapter 20

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Chapter 31

The League continued their hike through the hills, forthright in their determination to reach Joseph Curwen's cave and put an end to his operations. Baron Munchausen was ready to explain the concept of damnation to those who were baffled by the event involving Faust and Wagner, but no explanation was requested after The League regained their wits. Everyone seemed to dismiss the event as the type of phenomena that occurs during Munchausen's many adventures where the impossible somehow becomes a casual possibility.

M deduced an unspoken motivation behind The League's steadfast progress towards the inevitable showdown; they wanted this mission over before any other phenomenal occurrences compromise their sanity.

Jack Absolute had not witnessed the strange event, it was his upper class pride and military sense of duty that allowed him to keep up while walking a horse. Redmond Barry's mission for the Prussian secret service was over, but to cement The Baron's favour and give payback to Joseph Curwen, he would see this grand undertaking out. The Irishman hoped that his ample luck would flow throughout The League of which he was now a member.

Apart from a short respite for refreshments there was only one other stop and that was to examine a small red garment with a hood. It had been ripped, tattered and bloodied; whoever was wearing it, probably a child, had been attacked and savaged by The Beast.

The tragedy was a few days old, a deduction made by Chingachook after he found rotting body parts in the vicinity.

Not long after the trek was continued, Redmond marked the base of the hill that overlooked Curwen's cave. Jack Absolute was told to tether his horse to a nearby tree and follow The League as he is. The servant was ordered to remain behind and feed the the steed. The perimeter campfires were cold and unmanned.

"Curwen lost too many wolfmen yesterday." Said M. "He's saving his remaining manpower for defence of his cave fortress."

Redmond and The Baron were first to the apex; a thorough scan with their spyglasses found no wolfmen were positioned on the heights; there were several guards at the cave mouth though. From this point on they would have to tread carefully to avoid being seen. Each member of the party noted the cave mouth and its accessibilty.

"I know how we can get to it without being spotted." Announced Juliette. All eyes turned to her. "Well, I sneaked out of there. I can show you all how to sneak in."

M had given the area a tactical appraisal while making calculated judgments; he gave his approval to the courtesan then took Jack Absolute aside.

"Cadet Absolute. Do you see the cave?" He asked.

"Yes Baron." He replied.

"That is the target. Now, do you see that point on the hilltop?"

Munchausen was pointing at an easily recognisable point on the apex.

"Yes Baron." Answered Jack.

"I want you to get on the horse. Ride to where The Force is camped and bring them and their machinery here." Commanded M. "Tell them to set up their operation at that point on the hilltop. Have you got all that?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Now go."

Jack Absolute saluted Munchausen then began his run down the hill to his horse.

Juliette led The League down into the vales out of eyesight of the cave guards. The course she took when she escaped was soon found; by backtracking along it, she got everyone close to the cave mouth without being spotted.

"Well done Juliette." Said M "Now we must take out those guards before they raise the alarm."

The cave entrance was at a slight incline, four wolfmen moped there, a bell dangled at the left corner. A strategy was quickly agreed upon, Redmond carefully climbed ahead.

As soon as all positions were reached, Munchausen gave the signal for action. Chingachook stretched out his bow and fired an arrow, hitting a wolfman in the throat, unable to make a sound, he died quietly.

Juliette fired her crossbow at its designated target and felt a surge of pleasure as it hit the wolfman's chest, he keeled over and died after a second of agonised groaning. Munchausen fired his crossbow and instantly took out another guard. The one remaining wolfman noticed the agonised groans and saw his three companions dead, quickly ducking to avoid any further projectiles he rushed to the bell, but before he got to it, a garrote slipped around his throat. Redmond came out of his hiding spot and tightened the deadly wire until it severed the guards jugular.

M bade everyone to enter the cave while resetting his and Juliette's crossbow. The cavern was wide and illuminated by the strange bright torches hanging from the wall. Hawkeye, Chingachook, Jean and Redmond were all curious about the light without fire and gave distracting attention to the torches. Juliette fired her crossbow again taking out a wolfman who casually turned a corner towards them, she emitted a whispered moan of thrilling pleasure.

"You just let a woman do your work for you." Whispered M to the men as he reset and reloaded Juliette's crossbow.

All members of The League returned their focus on what was ahead.

"Baron." Whispered Jean. "Both Curwen and The Beast are here in this cave."

The cave was a vast interior expanse, with many sections ahead. Many stalactites were visible on the ceiling, but only a few stalagmites remained on the ground, many had been chopped at ground level leaving a near flat cave floor to walk on. Joseph Curwen's study had been well gutted by fire, whatever papers had survived had been moved elsewhere. All side chambers where checked for any enemy presence, none was found.

Further along was the next cave section, what The League saw was an arrangement of dinner tables, this was the wolfmens' mess hall. A solitary grunting figure was manacled to the wall but the immediate concern to M was four wolfmen seated at one of the tables having a late lunch. Hawkeye bounded across the tabletops to rush the group. Chingachook let fly an arrow, killing one of the two facing them before he could yell. Munchausen fired his crossbow, taking out the other wolfman facing them. One of the enemy turned to face the intruders only to receive a deadly bolt from Juliette's weapon. Hawkeye hurled his knife at the remaining foe, its embedding impact brought an agonised wince, an arrow from Chingachook delayed any alarming scream. Hawkeye then pounced from the tabletop onto the wounded man, grappled him then seized the embedded knife and pressed it home.

The manacled person did not change the tempo of his insane grunting throughout the engagement. All but Jean considered him to be insane.

"He smells like the dead, Baron." Said the perfumer. "This man is a corpse, revived to its primal savagery by Joseph Curwen."

Juliette fired a crossbow bolt into the grunting fury, it did not drop or show pain, the tempo of its grunting changed only moderately.

"Baron this is what happened to Squire Thornhill." Explained Jean. "Curwen revived him from death, to be much like this soul. I had a hard time terminating the Squire because you can't kill what is already dead.

"You have you sword. Try it."

Munchausen drew his sabre and with deft precision sliced the grunting man's throat. There was an end to the insane grunting but the manacled hands kept clawing as before.

Hawkeye easily evaded the man's clumsy arm movements and stabbed a knife into his heart; there was no response. Redmond Barry fixed a bayonet to one of his muskets and drove the blade through the man's chest, with a stupefying lack of effect.

"Chingachook." Jean turned to Mohican brave. "A heavy blow to the head would have the result we're looking for. Would you please do the honours and end this travesty."

The old hunter and warrior swung his war club, that looked like an axe, and brought it down on the manacled man's head, clefting the skull. Just as the perfumer said, the crazy target dropped to a dangling motionless state.

"This is what I learned when I was attacked by the revived lifeless body of Squire Thornhill." Stated Jean. "Killing them in the normal way is no good, after all they are already dead. What you must do is destroy the control facility in their head. The Brain."

Everyone managed to regain their senses and proceed to the next cave section, which followed a slight downward slope, just before they reached its base, a familiar bloodcurdling sound filled the cavern. It was The Beast and that was the growl it utters when it senses prey.

Jean placed the small enclosure he was carrying on the ground; brought out a tiny paintbrush and the bottle containing his latest perfume with which he wet the brush and dabbed the concoction on the meowing cat within the cage. The perfumer resealed the bottle and drowned the tainted paintbrush in a bottle of raw alcohol. The growls of The Beast intensified.

Two wolfmen appeared ahead, both Munchausen and Juliette fired their crossbows, silencing the foes. The courtesan asked M for another bolt but was informed that there were none left for either weapon.

Four more wolfmen armed with muskets arrived on the scene. The League's silent approach was over there was nothing else to do now but engage the enemy with firearms. Hawkeye and Chingachook brought two down with crack shots. Redmond, with his musket mortally injured a third. The remaining foe got a shot of, which hit The Baron's crossbow, destroying its spring mechanism, the wolfman then seized a musket from one of his fallen brethren and took cover in an alcove.

More enemy were approaching and taking cover. M discarded his now useless crossbow and commanded Hawkeye, Chingachook and Redmond to take strategic positions and engage. These positions were either behind stalagmites or rocks, in alcoves or niches,against walls or lying flat on the floor; the wolfmen did likewise. Juliette and Jean were told to stay back.

Both Hawkeye and Chingachook showed great aim and hit several enemies who chose good cover. The only hit Redmond scored was a wolfman who stepped into his line of fire to aid the wounded one, who succumbed soon after. Near misses from enemy fire harassed The League while they reloaded.

Baron Munchausen's gunplay struck the others as odd, he was firing his muskets up into the cave ceiling, reloading and repeating this strange activity after a calculating glance at the enemy. Hawkeye cottoned on to what M was doing when he noticed a wolfman get crowned by falling debris. Stalactites, shot at by The Baron, were falling on the wolfmen: one received a rock spike on his shoulder, breaking his collarbone; another stalactite was so big that it crushed two wolfmen; the next to fall was as slender as a javelin and neatly impaled another.

The remaining wolfmen retreated deeper into the cave, The League members fired shots to help them on their way. The pursuit ended in a hurried entrance into the next cave section.

"Now you're going to get it." Said a little boy in a wolfskin.

Munchausen recognised Guy Loup, the boy who tried to poison him; he was atop a ramp that led to a large wooden enclosure lacking illumination. An adult wolfman was with Guy, together they pulled open the gate they had just unlatched; a growl from within told everything.

The Beast was about to emerge and all four combatants realised that they did not have a ready shot between them; desperate reloads began. Juliette drew her pistol from its garter holster and shot the adult wolfman dead. Despite his child strength Guy Loup managed to finish opening the gate alone.

The monstrous shape of black fur, bright blood red eyes and huge teeth appeared on top of the ramp. Its tail pointed up as did much of the fur on its back; a bitter snarl became a savage growl of bloodlust that reverberated throughout the cavern. Redmond Barry froze in terror, it was his first look at The Beast of Gevaudan.

Jean had the only ready firearm, a pistol, but did not reach for it; he placed the small enclosure on the ground, directed the opening towards the cave mouth then released Tom the Cat. The feline ran to the previous cave section, stopping for a second to size up his situation. The Beast bolted down the ramp, members of The League braced to meet a lupine attack without ready firearms. With a few strides, the black furred horror bypassed The League, giving them a mere snarl, before racing after the fleeing cat.

"I made this specially for The Beast." Said Jean presenting a bottle of his latest perfume to his awestruck allies. "This perfume contains the alluring scent of a she wolf in heat."

"Amongst other things." Said Juliette.

The perfumer and the courtesan gave each other a look of scrutiny.

"I have just made that cat an overriding focus for the wolf." Explained Jean. "It will not bother us now."

M and the others praised Jean for his cleverness and inventiveness. Guy Loup was nowhere to be found, he had sneaked away when all eyes were on The Beast. All firearms were reloaded; Redmond reloaded Juliette's pistol, when he handed it back to her she seized his arm, drew him to her and passionately kissed him on the lips. The Irish rogue was exuberant, his luck was definitely still buoyant.

Tom the cat, at first, fled the enclosure but found himself running for his life. The huge monstrosity pursuing him brought out intense fear that drove him to near impossible speed. Tom had ran from many dogs in his lifetime but this topped all perils he had experienced in England. It wasn't just another dog, it was a whole new level of horrible.

Many tables and chairs seemed to offer salvation, Tom ran under them only to find his hot breathed pursuer running into them, pushing the furniture aside like they were empty garbage bins. Tom jumped up to a tabletop then leaped to others to get clear of this giant canine; it was no good, The Beast pushed aside the wooden structures like they were blades of grass; even four dead human bodies were stepped over with complete abandon.

At the edge of the last table, Tom bounded for the floor then made swift tracks for a set of pantry shelves, they were well stocked with food but more importantly they were high. Progress up the shelves to the top one was complicated but fast. The Beast gazed its red eyes on the pantry shelves and with a signal from its smelling senses decided what food item it wanted. With a leap, the wolf clamped its jaws on a middle shelf and pulled the unit into a forward topple.

Tom meowed hysterically, these shelves were no longer sanctuary and were falling to meet the ground. There was only one place he could jump to, thus avoiding impact and injury, the wolf's back; he did so, his claws found the lupine fur had great traction. The red eyes turned on the cat and the salivating jaws were about to snap when a falling bag of potatoes hit the monstrous head and stunned the viscous abomination for a crucial second.

A leap to the floor, had Tom fleeing for a new sanctuary, with experienced skill he ascended a coat stand then, just before his pursuer ripped it away, jumped to a bookcase. These shelved structures were hard to climb when full but the coat stand gave a high launching point; getting to the bare top was made easy. Tom crossed the bookcase and quickly bounded to a cave wall fixture. The Beast did to the bookcase what it did to the pantry shelves but too late to bring its prey down to the floor. This fixture was put there to hang things on, it was a single round wooden rod and Tom traversed it carefully, he was not high enough to avoid the predator below.

It would take a mighty leap to bring those jaws to Tom's level but the monster dog was driven, its nature was one of savage cruelty and intense bloodlust. Several lupine leaps were attempted to snap those large jaws on the feline body; Tom would suddenly alter his pace to evade the snaps, either by rushing forward and risk losing his footing, or by stopping just short of a calculated leap and bite, he would never dare turn back, maneuvering around would render him still and vulnerable for a few seconds.. He got so close to the end when a last desperate leap, by The Beast, had the jaws clamping on the wooden fixture virtually just where Tom's forepaws were. The monsters breath was hot and foul, it tried to snap again after releasing its hold on the fixture but gravity worked too fast and the jaws bit thin air. Tom reached the end of the fixture and jumped to a nearby ledge that sloped to a high point, he was safe.

The wolf leaped futilely and repetitively to reach its prey. Tom hissed at the Beast of Gevaudan.

"Ambush." Warned Jean. "Several wolfmen are hiding behind those rock pillars. I can smell them and their gunpowder."

The League had progressed towards the next cave section. At the threshold, stalagmites and stalactites met to form wide columns that could easily hide the enemy. M told everyone to stop and get against the cave wall.

"Jean." Said M. " It's time to use the special concoction I wanted you to make."

"I got it Baron." Replied the perfumer as he brought out a sealed bottle.

"Everyone tie your masks now." Commanded M.

All members of The League got out their issued handkerchiefs and,as they had been drilled to do, tied them to their faces, bandit style. Their noses and mouths were now filtered; the handkerchiefs were treated with a potent counter agent prepared by Jean.

At a signal from M, the perfumer hurled the sealed bottle at the pillars, when it shattered, the chemical contents exploded in a cloud of stinking gas. The wolfmen hiding behind the natural columns left their cover and, with a sound of abject revulsion, stumbled clumsily into enemy sight. They no longer cared that the planned ambush was ruined, some didn't even keep hold of their weapons. The stink bomb disfunctioned them so much that they could only pinch their noses and grasp their guts, some also vomited, even the sight of The League rushing them could not jolt them into undertaking a capable defence.

Chingachook was first into the stink area; the treated hankerchief had countered the foul smell of the gas. A tomahawk swing cleft the skull of a sickened wolfman; next, a full circle pivot, while uttering his war cry, brought the small axe down on another wolfman's head. The war mace was unslung, the Mohican brave swung it with lethal force, taking out as many of the enemy as he could before they recover their senses.

Second into the melee was Hawkeye, he clubbed a dysfunctional wolfman hard on the head with a musket butt, knocking him down. Another nearby wolfman tried to swing his gun stock at the frontiersman, it was done slowly this gave Hawkeye time to duck and, with his knife, hamstring the foe, bringing him down where a neat slash of his throat finished him. He was fighting many other would be ambushers at his best capacity, while the few attacks, blocks and dodges made by the enemy combatants were sluggish and clumsy; the stink had not only brought them out of cover, but handicapped their fighting ability. Hawkeye's blade bloodied many a wolfskin

A bayonet charge was Redmond's choice, he ran it through the chest of the first wolfman he got to. A nearby foe tried to use his firearm but the sickening feeling of the stink slowed him down; Redmond slammed the butt of his musket into the wolfman's belly then, as he lurched, brought the butt hard against his head, and again for good measure.

Baron Munchausen had a sabre in one hand and a shortsword in the other, when he reached the sickened enemy he opened a wolfman's throat with the former and disarmed a second foe with a strike from the shortsword. The disarmed antagonist, although retching from the stink, drew out his knife; M quickly crossed his two swords in front of the varmint's throat, bringing each blade on either side of the jugular; with a neat two handed move, the swords scissored, nearly decapitating the foe but for the spine. A musket was aimed at Munchausen, his keen battle sense alerted him and a swift sabre stroke knocked the offending firearm aside sending its shot to the right; the gunman, stunned by the stink and his miss, had The Baron's shortsword driven into his chest.

Jean and Juliette followed behind the warriors having little penchant for melee combat. A wolfman who was reeling from the stink was missed by the combatants, he stepped out of the fight zone and found enough faculty to raise his musket into the fray. His position placed his back to Jean Baptiste Grenouille, who with a heavy blow to the back of the head with his trowel handle, ended the sniper's life. Juliette had rearmed her crossbow with a bolt pulled from the corpse of a former target. The sight of a second foe stumbling out of the fight zone, recovering his wits from the stink and raising his musket, had the courtesan fire the deadly shaft into his ribcage. The thrill of using the crossbow was intense as was watching its effect, but disappointment followed, she could not extract the bolt from the dead target's chest for a third use. Juliette begrudgingly discarded her now useless weapon.

Three wolfman got themselves clear of the stink cloud by running deeper into the cave; Redmond gave chase and observed them making their way across a ledge that rimmed an illuminated amphitheatre. They were still debilitated from the chemical weapon, so the Irish rogue charged with silence and confidence. The first wolfman was taken by surprise, a trip and sideward nudge by Redmond sent him off the ledge, falling to a head first landing on the hard amphitheatre floor. Instantly the other two turned their heads, but their actions were slow; Redmond lunged forward with his bayoneted musket and stuck the blade neatly in the next foe's belly. The last wolfman was raising his firearm; Redmond had to act fast, with a swing to the left he dangled his stuck foe off the ledge, hoping gravity would slide him off the blade, but the still living wolfman clung to the musket, a forceful shove from Redmond's boot sent him on his way. Only the last enemy's sickened state saved the Irishman from being shot, despite proximity, the wolfman's aiming and steadying of the musket took crucial seconds, Redmond found time to swiftly seized the initiative and fire his kill shot.

The other League members approached the amphitheatre edge, a charnel battleground behind them, they had killed all would be ambushers; Joseph Curwen must now be running seriously short of wolfmen followers. Redmond finished reloading his musket, this made all guns ready and an available backup arsenal of loaded muskets left by the late wolfmen; Jean placed these many guns in a bag and hauled them along as M instructed.

"The stink gas has dissipated." Announced the perfumer.

Everyone slowly removed their masks and began to breathe unfiltered air.

The amphitheatre was a wide circle dug deep in the cave floor, only half the perimeter had tiers where people could sit or climb; a fall from the top of an untiered section to the bottom would be injurious if not fatal. A narrow ledge with several passages and alcoves rimmed the circular pit. There were two stages, giving the structure a dual purpose: one was on the far rim, it was more a podium chiseled out of the rock; this would be where a leader addresses his followers. The other stage was in the floor centre; it was a round marble stage with three ramps, one hundred and twenty degrees apart, giving access to performers; this was apparently for entertainment.

M told everyone to proceed around the rim to the far side, there was four separate attacks by lone wolfmen darting out of an alcove or a passage, but The League was highly alert and shot the rash defenders before they could fire their guns.

"You have all gone far enough." Bellowed a voice familiar to several of The League.

They were half way around the rim when the voice sounded. Joseph Curwen came out of a far passage and went onto the podium. His usual mean look was contorted by fury into a monstrous inhuman visage; the pallid skin looked alien in contrast to his colored robes.

"That's him." Said Jean, Juliette and Redmond.

"To my order and my designs you have done great evil." Roared Curwen. "So unto this League great evil will be done."

Two shots were fired at the angry warlock, with a deft move of his hands he deflected both projectiles with an invisible barrier. Members of The League either unslung reserve firearms or got out their melee weapons only to have them yanked out of their hands by an unseen force and thrown into the amphitheatre.

Joseph Curwen's next movement of his arms was predicted and recognised by Jean and Redmond; both yelled out warnings to jump into the pit and get behind the stage. All League members bound down the tiers to the pit floor and took cover behind the stage, except for Baron Munchausen who believed in facing an enemy.

M drew out his sabre to face Joseph Curwen, the aristocratic German soldier found himself clutched by an invisible giant hand and suspended mid air in front of the warlock, he could move his limbs but the sabre could now only slash thin air.

"Baron Munchausen." Said Curwen. "Only a self deluding publicity moron like you could ever believe that he could stop me. Look where your aristocratic stupidity has got you; here in my lair, in my clutches. I think this is one adventure you will not be boasting about."

Hawkeye and Chingachook each fired a shot at the warlock but, despite his attention being firmly on The Baron, the invisible barrier remained. The two trappers along with Redmond drew their blades and began to climb the tiers to the podium. Jean stayed behind the stage and poured some perfume into a mechanism under his wrist. Juliette recognised the concoction, it was the one that smelled like Chastity, the Virtue assassin.

"Joseph Curwen." Said M. "Your machinations stop here. My League will destroy you."

"Your League." Blared Curwen contemptuously. "That mishmash of deviants and misfits down there. Well Baron, since you've got faith in them let's see what they can do without you."

The warlock threw his hands forward and down, Munchausen was hurled backwards at great speed as if flung by a catapult. He passed neatly in between the pillars, striking them with his sabre as he passed, this allowed him to turn around and observe his trajectory, which with subtle strokes form the blade against passing stalactites he managed a little directional control. All the League observed his flight, swift as it was; his course could take him out of the cave mouth.

Redmond knew M was in for a deadly flight, even if he did clear the cave mouth, there would be a hard landing. Then again he was the great Baron Munchausen, the soldier who supposedly rode on cannonballs in flight, as if they were horses.

"Fin fin finish ish ish." Baron Munchausen's voice echoed down the caverns as it became swiftly distant.

Joseph Curwen clenched his fists and swung his arms backward as if hitting an invisible object behind him. Instantly, the cavern walls shuddered with the violence of an earthquake; the amphitheatre walls with them. Redmond, Hawkeye and Chingachook were almost at the theatre rim when the shockwave hit, its force sent all three rolling back down the tiers to the floor. They were bruised but they all got to their feet as the quake passed.

"You really don't have a chance you know." Yelled Curwen from his podium. "That pitiful, delusional Baron has sent you all on a fool's mission. It is sad that he made you believe in this folly. He hasn't stopped anything, all he's done is get you all killed."

"Baron, good man." Said Chingachook while reloading his musket along with Hawkeye. "You bring bad medicine. Great Spirit angry."

Curwen cut in. "Oh, spare me your Indian mysticism, when I'm through it will be obsolete."

The warlock cast his gaze at Redmond with his bruised features. "And you Irishman, you were extremely lucky to survive being hurled through the air. So what do you do; come back for more punishment. My my, Munchausen has recruited stupid people."

"Well I did say I was going to get you for that." Replied Redmond.

"One more point for stupidity."

"It' over for you Joseph Curwen." Uttered Hawkeye. "Your wolfmen army are all dead. It's just you and us now."

"Yes, it's true that there is only a few wolfmen left." Said Curwen. "But that is only one army. The dead have provided me with a second army."

Ancient chanting vibrated from the Warlock's mouth while his swinging arm movements suggested opening doors. Hawkeye fired a shot at Curwen only to find the invisible barrier still active. The sound of many doors slamming open reverberated throughout the cavern. Next came the many grunting sounds, much like those of the manacled figure in the mess room but these sounds were many; they were of an oncoming multitude.

Joseph Curwen fell into a manic laughter as the amphitheatre rim was flooded with grunting human figures; they were all deathly pale with a wide eyed look of crazed madness. Some of these figures wore wolfskins and gunshot wounds could be seen on them; others wore burial robes or mortician's rags, a few were in civilian clothing, while several were stark naked with mortal diseases evident on their skin.

Instantly the crazed mob flowed into the amphitheatre towards The League, the figures cascaded down the tiers, but there were many trips and missteps sending individuals and those in their path hurtling down the large steps. Several crazies stepped over untiered sections of the rim, they would break both legs on impact with the floor, but no pain was expressed, just the same crazed resolve to attack The League, so they dragged themselves towards the stage.

Redmond Barry fired his musket at one of the crazies descending the tiers, the shot hit him in the chest, with no effect other than a slight knock back, the figure maintained its attack run.

"Aim for the heads." Yelled Jean.

Chingachook fired a shot that entered an attackers skull, it slumped to a real death position.

"Everyone get up on the stage." Commanded Hawkeye while reloading his gun. "Jean take the weapon bag up there."

The perfumer recognised Hawkeye's new status as team leader and carried the bagged arsenal up a ramp to the marble stage. Redmond and Chingachook each took a ramp and, while reloading their firearms took position at the peak. Juliette lost time reaching into her garter for the pistol, a female crazy who had tumbled down the tiers, got up without delay and clawed at her while showing bloodied teeth. The courtesan pointed the pistol at the deathly eyes of her attacker and fired; the figure dropped. Hawkeye seized Juliette by the arm and bade her to ascend the ramp.

Her rush up the ramp to the defensive circle of the stage was cut short when she was lifted of her feet by an invisible force and brought, suspended in the air, before Joseph Curwen.

"Hello my pretty." Said the warlock. "You ran out on me and burned down my office."

"I didn't fancy being your guest or the foul stuff you study." Answered Juliette. "Your plans for me were not to my liking."

"Well then. You will be pleased to know that I have new plans for you."

With a swift sideward movement of Curwen's arms, a screaming Juliette was whisked into a passage above the rim.

Hawkeye completed the defensive circle on the stage. He, Chingachook and Redmond would each face one of the ramps and repel the crazed attackers flooding the theatre floor; Jean will stay in the middle of the stage and hand out loaded firearms from the bagged arsenal. There was nothing they could do for Juliette, only hope that M's confidence in her was well founded, which means she can extricate herself from trouble.

Juliette's whisked flight ended at the end of the passageway, she found herself, regaining her breathe, in a gothic chamber where several torture devices were present. No sooner had she found her composure when she was roughly seized from behind; a struggle to break free proved unsuccessful. She did however manage to turn towards a large mirror, where a reflection revealed her antagonist's face; he was a wolfman but what chilled her to the bone was the recognition; it was Patience.

But she killed him. He was dead, she strangled him herself and made sure he would never get up to bother her again. How come he's alive? She could see the rope marks on his throat and burn marks on his hand. Patience had a burning hatred on his face, not the usual antipathy a Virtue would cast on someone like her, but a furiously stoked malevolence revealing intense rage.

The virtue turned her away from the mirror and clamped his arm around her throat then whispered into her ear.

"You foul disgusting whore. Killing me was bad enough, but the way you did it destroyed something very valuable to me. I woke up on the alter; Curwen brought me back, just like he brought you back, he did it so I could get you. Now wretched succubus, I'm going to give you pain and torment because of what you did to me."

Patience had a skinning knife, he could've stabbed or slashed her then and there, completing his duty as a Virtue, but then he had clearly lost his virtue, he was all rage now. He was pushing her forward, even lifting her up off the floor for short bursts to make headway as she struggled. Juliette looked ahead to his destination, it was the iron maiden, the upright sarcophagus was wide open with its spikes retracted; he was going to shut her in there, sandwich her with the spikes and thus torture her for hours.

Heavy breathing told the courtesan the position of her captor's head, she brought her own head forward, as much as the clamping arm allowed, them snapped it back impacting with Patience's face. He flinched in discomfort, loosening his hold on her neck. Juliette grabbed the loosened clamp arm, pushed it out, managing only an inch or two, then brought her teeth down on its skin and bit as hard as she could. The screaming Virtue dropped his knife and withdrew the bitten arm but maintained his hold around her belly. Juliette lurched forward and discreetly reached into her cleavage. A cruel hand seized the back of her hair and wrenched the yelping woman back to an upright posture. The push towards the iron maiden continued.

Juliette had her knife in hand now, she had unsheathed it from her cleavage scabbard when she lurched forward; she remembered Hawkeye's lesson in dealing with rear grapplers. The blade plunged into Patience's thigh, Juliette then gave it a good twist; the Virtue shrieked and, through shock, relaxed his hold on the woman. Juliette extracted the knife then spun herself free while curses and expletives were spat at her.

"I thought you were a Virtue." Said Juliette.

"Damn you. You turned me into this." Yelled Patience.

A grasp at her own dress lacework was supposed to collect the little bottle of knockout concoction, it did that, but also tore the garment, revealing her naked shoulder. This seemed to make Patience even angrier.

"Shameless tart." Screeched Patience.

"That was the truest thing he said." Juliette surmised. She pointed the nozzle at his face but, despite his wound, he bound towards her and whacked the bottle aside with a sweeping hand. Only a fraction of spray emitted, the glass receptacle shattered against the chamber wall.

Patience had blood running down his leg and twitches revealed a minor effect of the knockout concoction, but he was determined and fueled by hate, he limped quickly to retake Juliette, she managed, despite the confined area, a couple of dodges before his hand grabbed her dress tearing it further. An upward slash from her knife, cut the grasping limb making it release the hold before Patience could secure it.

The Virtue picked up his huge skinning knife and moved on his target again. Juliette was fleet and managed to keep her distance, she even bounded over torture racks with with spritely grace while her pursuer got slower and slower. She could have fled the chamber, but she wanted to finish this Virtue campaign against her once and for all.

After a few minutes, Patience's movements became sluggish and clumsy, only his hate remained buoyant. He would slash, with his knife, at thin air; his eyesight was clearly blurring. Juliette picked up a set of loose manacles; when her pursuer got to a designated point she hurled the chains into his face, the impact was not severe, it merely caused him to stop for a few seconds and reorient himself. Those few seconds were all the courtesan needed; she availed herself of a pike, standing on a weapon rack, then drove the point into Patience's belly, pushing him back into the iron maiden. She withdrew the pike and dropped it, it had not penetrated far, being too heavy for her to use that way.

While the Virtue stood still catching his breathe and feeling his new stomach wound, Juliette spread her arms, grabbed each side of the iron maiden doors and slammed them together shut then quickly set the latch. Straining from within revealed that Patience was trying to open the doors, then came desperate knocking and more foul curses and screamed insults.

Juliette placed her hands on the wheel at the structure's side the began to turn it clockwise, The wheel engaged the mechanism on both sides. She had seen demonstrations of this device and new how it worked. As the wheel turned, the metal spikes protruded further and further out of the enclosure's interior walls. The trapped Virtue's ferocious ranting soon became loud and unbroken screams of pain as he was slowly impaled on both sides. Blood oozed out of the sarcophagus vents. There was no window in the door, that was OK, Juliette did not which to see the assassin's tortured face.

"Now." Yelled Juliette. "I'm going to give you the mercy you were not going to give me."

She turned the wheel, with strained difficulty, all the way clockwise. The interior spikes extended to their maximum length. There were no more screams, no noise of any kind; Patience was once again dead; the spikes would have penetrated his heart and head. His essential salts were now spilling down a drain, preventing any further resurrection by Joseph Curwen. Speak of the devil. She had to rejoin The League and assist in his destruction.

Two loaded pistols were found in the chamber desk; Juliette took them and went back down the passage she had been whisked through.

When The League took the marble stage they would be putting on the performance, not of their lives but for their lives. Joseph Curwen aside, there audience was one of bestial crazed humans who were trying to get on the stage so they can bite and claw the performers to death. Many got to the stage base and tried to reach for the marble top that was above their heads, their grunts and roars formed a cacophony of savage intent. Their hands could reach over the edge to grasp an ankle but the performers stayed clear.

The first crazies to make use of the access ramps were shot in the head by the defenders. Each of the three ramps were thus employed, after each shot a fast reload was required, all three managed this but soon the approaches became too frequent.

Redmond was first to find too little time to reload after eliminating an approaching crazy. The next attacker trudged feverishly up the ramp ready to bite and claw, the Irishman put down his firearm and accepted a loaded one handed to him by the astute Jean. The musket taken from the wolfmen ambush worked effectively, sending a shot through the attacker's cranium.

Chingachook soon found himself in the same predicament, but instead of accepting a loaded gun from Jean, got out his tomahawk and delivered a hard blow that cleft the crazy's skull. It worked just as well as a shot in the head, the attacker slumped.

Hawkeye could reload very fast, but even he found the approaches too frequent, he accepted one firearm from Jean to take out an attacker approaching too soon after the former. He could use these enemy guns almost as good as his own. It was during a rushed reload that a crazy scaled the ramp very quickly, the frontiersman was still ramming his half loaded barrel, he aimed the musket half cocked, applied a trick manipulation to override the safety and fired, shooting the ramrod into the attacker's eye socket; with the brain obviously pierced, he dropped backwards. Hawkeye copped powder burns doing that move, but he picked up his own musket and continued the fight.

Approach frequency was getting higher. Although the ramps were wide enough for two to approach side by side; Redmond found himself approached by three crazies, each a few feet apart. He fixed his bayonet and shot the first attacker in the head. The second he gave a strong buffeting swipe with the used musket, knocking the crazy off the ramp, he would approach later. With a calculated duck, the Irish rogue got beneath his third antagonist's clawing arms then rammed the bayonet under his chin, thus impaling the head, eliminating the foe.

Melee defence was highly favoured by Chingachook, he took very few reserve muskets from Jean. When the ramp attacks multiplied he got out his war mace and tomahawk, howled out his battle cry and engaged the enemy at close quarters. The latter weapon would cleft many a skull. The war mace could also drop an opponent; a strike downward from in front or a swing from the side would end the impacted brain's functional status; but the clawing arms of the target crazy could deflect its trajectory and a miss would be disastrous. What the Mohican warrior settled on doing was swinging the mace at the legs, then, as the crazy fell, aim a second swing at the head. When many attackers scaled the ramp at once, the mace would be used as a buffeting tool, sweeping them off the incline edge down to the floor. He could terminate them later when they came up the ramp in numbers he could manage.

Hawkeye would use many different rifles in this fight, the crazies were approaching to often for him to reload his musket, he would seldom get the chance to complete it. The ready firearms from the bagged arsenal would be handed over to him, get used and then piled up on the stage floor. Sometimes the crazies attacked in pairs, the trapper would shoot one through the head then club the other with the gun butt, the latter would be knocked off the stage but return later with a face contorted by the fracture. Better melee results were had when Hawkeye would trip the attacker then drive his knife upwards from under their chin, or just face the clawing fury and stab it in the eye socket.

The arsenal of ready muskets was almost depleted; for Jean this provided a measure of relief, burnt powder fumes were making him sick. As he diligently handed out loaded firearms where they were needed; a glance upwards showed Joseph Curwen observing his discomfort with keen interest.

Five crazies started up the ramp, in single file towards Redmond Barry. A head shot from his current firearm stopped the first. Jean handed the Irishman another musket, a rushed shot from that terminated the second. Redmond bobbed down to quickly pick up his bayonet tipped gun, there was no time for a stab under the chin, the Irish rogue drove the blade into the third attacker's chest, the crazy seized the weapon that had impaled it, forcing Redmond to push his antagonist over the ramp edge, when he fell the bayonet and musket went with it. With the remaining two attackers almost on him Redmond drew the musket pistol from his belt and sent a shot through the forehead of one. The other grappled the Irishman who tried desperately to keep its bloody mouth from biting him; the wrestle for superiority ended when both contestants fell of the stage.

All crazies in the vicinity of the fall rushed to the scene with extra frenzied grunting. Redmond managed to extricate himself from the grapple, get up and run to the amphitheatre tiers, he bound up to the second level as his pursuers groped in his direction from the floor.

Both Hawkeye and Chingachook had their hands full defending their ramps, this left the third undefended. Jean took his bottle of pure alcohol and smashed it on the incline's base, he then took out his issued pistol, set a piece of wadding paper alight and placed it in the muzzle then fired into the spilt fluid. A spontaneous bonfire erupted, several crazies, showing no fear or understanding of the fire, tried to ascend the ramp, they were consumed in flames. As their hair caught fire, the skulls heated, cooking the brain, ending its control; the fearless attackers slumped into a burning heap.

Other crazies were also caught up in the fire, their dead flesh and old clothing seemed to burn well; they did not express pain or discomfort, just disorientation as their perceptual faculties became compromised by the heat. Many of these would stumble blindly and collide with more grunting furies, thus spreading the fire among all of them. They would all prove to be quite combustible.

This was a relief for the two trappers, they could not have kept up their defensive efforts much longer, the burning attackers were clumsy and easily pushed off the ramp. There was little need for combat as the fire would soon finish the attackers. The last ready musket was handed over to Hawkeye who sent its shot into the head of a mollified figure running blindly up the ramp.

The only crazies still active were harassing Redmond, who had picked up a loose musket during his run. The Irish rogue was on the second tier, using the spent weapon to knock back any pursuers who managed to climb the first tier; this was only attempted spasmodically, so Redmond could easily counter all attempts to rush him. Ten grunting crazies groped up the tiers for the desperate Irishman who kept himself just out of reach.

Smoke had filled the amphitheatre. Hawkeye had noticed Redmond's plight but also saw that the podium was obscured.

"If we can't see him, he can't see us coming." Said Hawkeye. "Chingachook we must climb to the podium now and rush Curwen while the smoke blurs his vision."

Hawkeye and Chingachook readied their blades. "Jean." Said the former. "We're going after Curwen. See what you can do to help Redmond."

As the perfumer acknowledged, the two trappers began their ascent up the tiers towards the podium; Redmond's plight was on the amphitheatre's other side. Of the several crazies who had become a disorientated walking mass of flames, Jean noticed one who still had the Irishman's bayonet still lodged in his chest and the musket dangling from it. The blazing figure was stumbling blindly, Jean seized the stock of the dangling musket and, while avoiding the threshing arms, pushed the burning figure into the backs of the groping horde harassing Redmond.

Flames spread like the wildfire they were. All crazies who came into contact with the burning figure began their own personal cremation as the close knit bunch they were a part of were all set alight without exception. Jean pulled the bayonet out of the burning man's chest, took the musket in both hands and tossed it to Redmond who caught it with a grin at this providence. Several of the newly combusted crazies turned their attention towards the perfumer who promptly fled back to the stage hoping to conduct some defence.

An ancient chant emanated through the curtain of smoke. Chingachook faintly recognised an old obsolete term for wind in the utterings, as he and Hawkeye neared the amphitheatre rim. A sudden and furious breeze suddenly came from nowhere and collected all the smoke, blowing it away to the cave mouth.

Hawkeye reached the amphitheatre top on the right side of the podium, Chingachook on the left. Joseph Curwen was there; with the smoke cleared he noticed both approaches; with a whispered chant and a clawed hand he focused on Hawkeye. The forest scout found himself gripped, as if by an invisible giant hand; he could not move. Chingachook hurled his tomahawk but saw it deflected by the invisible barrier. With his war mace unslung, the Mohican brave rushed the warlock. Curwen, while maintaining his hold on Hawkeye, uttered another chant and extended the palm of his right hand towards the Indian. Chingachook was suddenly knock back against the cave wall, as if a stampeding buffalo had rammed him. The stunned Mohican dropped his war mace then went into a near helpless roll down the tiers back into the amphitheatre.

"Munchausen's blind arrogance has infected you Hawkeye." Blurted Curwen. "I will put you down like a sick dog."

"Joseph Curwen." Said Hawkeye. "Your shady activities in Rhode Island have been the dark conversation of many a Delaware campfire. Munchausen may consider your destruction his duty, but Chingachook and I consider it the will of the forest."

The warlock shook his clawed hand aside. Hawkeye was pushed, by the same force that held him, over the rim into a hard roll down the tiers. Both Hawkeye and Chingachook were on the amphitheatre floor with multiple bruises. They both got awkwardly to their feet to find four wolfmen on the rim pointing muskets down at them; they were in pairs and each pair were on opposite sides of the theatrical pit..

Jean was on the stage, with a burning crazy approaching from each of the three ramps; their perceptions were intact enough to zero in on him. The flames would soon terminate them but not soon enough. A familiar lifting sensation came over the perfumer; he was levitating above the stage. All three burning crazies collided and turned their primordial fury on each other; they became a mass of threshing arms, grunting mouths and incinerating flesh. The perfumer found himself suspended in mid air before the podium, Joseph Curwen, with a controlling hand out, was facing him.

"Well Grenouille." Said Curwen. "Now you know what its like to have the dead attack you in vast numbers. This need never happen again, my good graces have just saved you, they can keep you safe while together we bring the world of both living and dead under our dominion. Munchausen is dead. I have toyed with his League enough, they are about to be eliminated. You can join me in supreme life or them in rotting death. Are you with me Jean?"

"You are indeed majestic and would bring much power to any who join you." Replied Jean. "Of you I have given plenty of thought."

A disturbance on the rim turned the warlock's attention. Two of the four remaining wolfmen, with their backs to a passageway, suddenly went over the edge to a hard lethal fall on the theatre floor. Juliette appeared at the passage entrance, she had pushed the two wolfmen off the rim simultaneously. A quick pistol shot from the courtesan, across the theatre hit a third wolfman; as he gripped the bloody hole in his chest he lurched forward and fell off the edge with his musket.

The last wolfman hurriedly leveled his musket towards the woman on the far side. Juliette had a ready pistol and recognised the situation was much like a duel. She had witnessed many pistol duels, quite a few fought over her, the victors taught her that the way to win a duel was to scare the opponent into a rushed ill aimed shot, then, after they miss, you can take the time to aim carefully and finish them off. She had just killed three of his brethren and by leveling her loaded pistol at the wolfman she gave every indication that she was going to make him a forth prompt kill. The desperate gunman panicked and rushed to the initiative, his musket was far from steady, it fired and missed Juliette by a foot. More careful aim was achieved by the woman, her shot entered the last wolfman's throat, he was thrown back against the wall, dead.

Joseph Curwen was was so focused on Juliette's interference that he did not notice Jean bring a hand to his alternate wrist and operate a mechanism. A strong spray of fluid burst from Jean's wrist towards the warlock. The perfumer had correctly ascertained that the invisible barrier protecting Curwen was not a solid wall but a mesh designed to stop normal projectiles. Jean could smell the warlock's mind twisting scent through the barrier, therefore it was a mesh and minute droplets of perfume could penetrate it. A good measure of the fluid, got through the barrier and doused Joseph Curwen, who, with a bitter scowl, turned on the levitated perfumer.

"What have you done?" Demanded Curwen, trying to deduce the nature of the fluid.

Jean just stared blankly at the angered sorcerer who held him in a grip.

"You're not with me at all." Shouted Curwen.

An angry swipe of his controlling hand flung Jean sideward to a painful impact against the cave wall. The perfumer had enough of his faculties left to prevent himself rolling of the rim into the amphitheatre. A familiar growl reverberated throughout the cave, it was The Beast and subsequent growls revealed that it was approaching the scene.

"I could have given you divine majesty over all creation Grenouille." Blared Curwen. "But no. You choose The League. My pet will tear you to shreds."

The huge black wolf with blood red eyes entered the chamber, let out a fierce growl then bounded around the amphitheatre rim towards Jean. Juliette was in its path, she promptly ducked back into the passageway, which the lupine fury passed without a look.

Hawkeye, Chingachook and Redmond had no more active crazies to deal with, the fire had terminated all of them. Each of the three availed themselves of a loaded musket, provided by the three wolfmen who fell into the pit. They aimed the firearms at the huge wolf running around the rim but, before either of them fired, an invisible force wrenched the muskets out of their grasp.

Joseph Curwen worked the disarming spell. The Beast will kill Grenouille then all the other members of this nuisance group. He was strangely perplexed when The League members, after being disarmed, began to grin as if in triumph. The perfumer was also grinning, despite the fact that The Beast was almost on him. Jean tore the squirt mechanism of his wrist and threw it at the warlock's feet, then lay face down as if dead. Juliette reappeared at the passageway and elicited her own grin at the situation.

The Beast got to Jean but, without stopping, bound over him and rushed its designated prey. At that moment, Joseph Curwen realised the concept of the fluid he was doused with, it was a perfume specifically designed to irresistibly attract wolves; anyone wearing it would be priority prey. The warlock desperately tried to issue a master's command to The Beast, but the savage animal was driven by an overriding primordial instinct.

As Joseph Curwen's eyes went wide with horror, he hoped his invisible barrier designed to ward off projectiles, will protect him from this unforeseen threat. It didn't. The Beast lunged at the warlock's chest sinking its huge teeth into the ribcage, Curwen was down, the snapping of his ribs could be heard through the agonised screams. Blood splattered on the podium as Curwen's screaming body was dragged this way and that as the growling wolf found more and more ways to maul the still warm flesh.

Jean got up to see The Beast tear big chunks of skin and tendons away from the warlock's body while he continued to scream. These ended when the strong lupine jowls closed on the victim's throat, destroying vocal and breathing organs.

A loud thudding reverberated throughout the cave, it was repeated as if a giant was stamping on the hill above. The Beast did not halt the massacre of its master. Light slowly became dark as the illuminating torches faded.

"Joseph Curwen is dead." Announced Hawkeye. "The illumination is derived from his magic, so now they are fading. We must leave here now."

With the last few seconds of light, The League members collected their personal weapons and climbed out of the amphitheatre. Chingachook tied a discarded garment around the muzzle of a musket and set it alight from the residual fires among the burning corpses. Juliette went back down the passageway and returned with a lit candle lantern; that and the Mohican's makeshift torch provided a little illumination as they backtracked towards the cave mouth.

Killing The Beast of Gevaudan was briefly discussed. There was not a shot among them to kill it with and it was too dark to aim anyway. They had eliminated Joseph Curwen, that's what was important. Everyone could hear that The Beast was still engaged in mauling his master.

Boom boom. That thunder continued, dirt fell from the cave ceiling with each thudding. Hawkeye, Chingachook and Redmond recognised the sound of cannon fire.

"We have to get out fast." Said Hawkeye.

Jean picked up the cat enclosure on the way. As they passed through the dining cavern, Juliette noticed Tom the cat meowing in fear on a ledge. She managed to entice the feline down into her arms where after an indulgent hug he was placed in the small enclosure.

The cave mouth was still open, only a few stalactites had fallen due to the cannon fire. A fresh pounding occurred while they were crossing the cavern floor, more stalactites fell, they landed dangerously close to The League as they rushed to reach the mouth.

"Everyone." Yelled Hawkeye. "Get to the mouth and wave."

All League members stepped into the afternoon sunlight and waved. A line of cannons were on top of the next hill; they went silent as The League waved.

"This is the second force M sent for." Said Hawkeye. "Let's go to them now."

The League exited the cave and made their way up the hill to the cannons. First to greet them was surprisingly, Baron Munchausen.

"My dear friends." He said while enthusiastically shaking hands and embracing. "My how relieved and happy I am to see you all alive and well."

M explained that when he was hurled towards the cave mouth, he managed to tip his trajectory, by hitting passing stalactites with his sabre, in favour of clearing the entrance without going splat against a wall. His flight came to a soft landing when he hit a plush willow tree and landed in a set of thick bushes. The cannon crews had arrived when he got up, so he watched over their set up.

A fresh and jubilant set of handshakes and embraces ensured once Munchausen was told that Joseph Curwen was dead; set upon by his own beastly pet.

"You did the right thing leaving when you did." Said M "The Beast is just a loose end. What's important is that you got Joseph Curwen. The world is now safe from his machinations. To make sure it stays that way I'm going to put this second force to task."

A man in British military uniform was the clear commander of these cannon crews, he was in his late thirties, short, slight, blond and blue eyed. M introduced the Lieutenant Colonel as Lord John Grey, a seasoned artillery commander who had come out of retirement for this special mission.

This artillery force had been hiding in the French countryside, while disguised as closed wagons. They knew that today was the day of deployment. Jack Absolute was part of their team. After The Baron pointed out the target site to the young cadet, he left on his horse to fetch them and lead the cannons here.

Jack Absolute approached The League for a brief re-acquaintance and congratulations before returning to his post.

All existing cannon loads were fired into the hillside with little effect. The League knew that it was this that produced the thunder sound heard within the cave.

Baron Munchausen unlocked an ornate box in the ammunition wagon he placed a red cannonball into the hands of each cannon loader, telling them that it will be the next round fired.

"These cannonballs look and feel different Baron." Said John Grey

"That's because they have been specially forged by Vulcan." Explained M

Soldiers, cadets, the commander and The League all stood in disbelief.

"Baron." Pleaded John Grey. "I don't want another tragic incident of artillery blowing up and killing my crew. It seems were dealing with highly potent ammunition."

"Oh it is." Said M. "Though they won't achieve that potency till after they're fired. Your cannon crews are quite safe. Trust me."

After all cannons were loaded, Lord John Grey gave the command to direct each shot to various points, indicated by Munchausen, on the cave's hill one shot would be fired into the cave mouth; this was done under the commander's expert supervision and aim.

"Fire." Ordered John Grey.

All cannons fired in sequence, all shots hit their designated points but what happened then defied logic. The hill erupted into a thundering dark cloud of dirt and rock, the bang roared throughout the countryside. Everyone except Munchausen expected to be showered with debris. Although the thundering sound echoed outwards, the solid mass of churned dirt and rock rushed into a vacuum at its centre. This was not an explosion but an implosion.

It took a minute for the large cloud of churned matter to settle. The hill wasn't there anymore, it had been leveled. There was no cave, it had been filled in. All grass had been overturned, it was a layer of dirt now with the occasional rock. Anyone still in that cave would certainly be dead and buried now.

"The Beast." Said Hawkeye. "We didn't see it leave the cave; which means it's buried in that settled mass of dirt."

"Quite right Hawkeye." Replied M. "If by some miracle it survived the implosion, it would then have to dig its own way out. There is almost no chance that it would bother this countryside again."

"One more question Baron." Asked Hawkeye. "If the cannons could do that to Curwen's lair, why were we sent in to combat him and his wolfmen."

"Because if we didn't go in and kill him, this artillery unit would never have completed this act of necessary destruction." Answered M.

Hawkeye was puzzled and showed it. Lord John Grey stepped in to give greater explanation.

"Destroying Joseph Curwen with raw artillery has been attempted before." Explained the commander. "A few months ago Curwen had set up a base of operations in Russia. The Czarina knew of his dark practices and ordered him wiped off the face of the Earth. An artillery unit was deployed to deal with him. Its commander was a captain called Ivan Mironov. He set up his many cannons outside Curwen's lair then gave his crew the order to fire. Immediately after sending a volley to the lair, the artillery unit was suddenly wiped out by return fire. It was already ascertained that Joseph Curwen had no artillery of his own. Ivan Mironov and a few injured raggedy survivors limped back to headquarters.

"A second team was sent there, but Curwen had fled and made his way here. An investigation of the unfortunate artillery unit revealed that their own cannonballs had been fired back at them. This was the warlock's sorcery, it had stopped the shots in mid flight and bounced them back, with all their destructive potential, to the cannons that fired them. Captain Ivan Mironov was sent to the Kazakh frontier to command a fort, though his sense of failure kept him downhearted.

"The same would have happened to us if The League did not enter the cave, penetrate Curwen's defences and terminate him. In the end we were just there for good measure. The first cannon shots were a test to see if he could repeat what he did in Russia. He couldn't, I heard from you later that he was dead by then. The next few rounds were a warning to all allies inside to get out. You did so."

"Once The League was clear and we heard that Curwen was dead." Added M "We could then deliver the real payload and wipe his research, his pet, his wolfmen and his legacy off the face of the Earth."

Hawkeye turned to Munchausen and revealed his fresh bruises.

"Baron, we all have many new bruises from that ordeal. I hope you have a lot of ointment in your Chateau de Lune and champagne too."

"I do have all that." M grinned. "As for tomorrow, I have something special planned to mark this brilliant victory for The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen."

Guy Loup stared at the head of the wolfskin he was carrying, he felt the spirit of the wolf surge through him. The boy had eluded The League and got clear of the cave before the artillery unit arrived, he watched from a distance as the lair and hill itself was destroyed by the powerful cannon fire.

The sun was setting, it wasn't just setting on this day but on the wolfman cult of which he was a proud member. It was gone, Joseph Curwen was gone and the Beast of Gevaudan was gone. Guy had fed, looked after and touched The Beast, its essence was in him as was the wolf spirit, these qualities will make him a great General one day.

He will return to his home and to school. The wolf spirit will always be there to help him grow up and hold true to his resolve. He would become a great warrior and in time start his own order of wolfmen.


	21. Chapter 21

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen 1766 Chapter 32

Report: Observation Post Providence Rhode Island

It was during a standard observation through the spyglass on the still figure of Joseph Curwen that I saw the man suddenly jolt into frenzied activity. A scream, while clutching his chest, was his first action; his hands then then moved blindly around his torso as if he was trying to push away an invisible assailant; those hands then grasped his throat while the face gave a look of severe distress.

Servants entered the room and restrained their now active boss. Joseph Curwen appeared to snap out of his distressing nightmare and looked around as if he woke up in a stranger's house. After some apparently calming words from the servants who were restraining him, Curwen sat down in his usual seat and caught his breathe while, from what I can gather, he made a slow recovery from his fright.

The servants brought him refreshments and gave looks and sweet talk of what was something akin to welcome back.. Although my view through the window was limited, I did see Curwen eventually get up and undertake his role as Master of the House.

As I continued my discreet observation, Joseph Curwen set up a drawing board in the room he woke up in and placed piles of notes on the table. He would flick through these papers and draw symbols on the board. Within an hour of beginning this activity he would hurl most of these notes in the burning fireplace and rip others to shreds; his frustration became so intense that he picked up a bed warmer and used it to smash the drawing board into splinters. As the servants cleaned up his mess, he sat down with a sad look of utter defeat.

My hiding place was good, or so I thought, but when Curwen went outside to view his homestead like a prodigal tourist, a bitter frown was suddenly directed at me. He waved his arms and viscously chanted some foreign words; what happened was frightening, it was as if several malign ghosts leaped out of his form, flew across the field, charged in to my person and tore away at my sanity.

I ran as fast as I could, while he broke into a manic laughter, I kept running until I got into town, there was nothing chasing me, just the vivid memory of that horrid moment. It is time for me to end this detail, I can never go back there.

A coach has been chartered to take me far from here, I will go home. Home to my family in the Catskills, my daughter, my faithful dog, even my henpecking wife will be a welcome presence after what I have been through.

There is one more pigeon to send; it will carry this report that I wrote out while waiting for the coach. There is nothing more to say, for I feel a strong urge to sleep.

Yours Sincerely

Rip Van Winkle

M read the report out to The League, they were all seated comfortably in the rococo lounge. Each member was freshly groomed by Senor Figaro and then dressed in their finest adornments.

It was the day after their triumphant confrontation with Joseph Curwen, the wolf cult and The Beast; the task was done, the celebrations over and their many bruises still sore.

"That report is rather baffling." Said Redmond. "How can he be alive and in America when we saw him die here in France?"

Munchausen explained as best he could, Cagliostro's theory of a doppelganger created by sorcery taking the warlock's mind, leaving leaving his creator and original, a mindless vegetable in his hometown, while the double goes abroad to work his fiendish designs.

"When the Joseph Curwen we confronted was destroyed, the mind that inhabited his body returned to the Joseph Curwen in Rhode Island. According to this report, he even felt the last sensations of the doppelganger being mauled by The Beast."

"But he is alive and well." Said Hawkeye. "He could start up his devilish work again. He still has sorcery and his manic laugh."

"That he does." Replied M. "But this Joseph Curwen does not have the high potential that the warlock we fought had. At least not yet, his mind seems to have lost much knowledge during transference. He does not have his notes or books, those notes he had in his house were useless. For him its not only back to the drawing board, but he has to get a new one. Our mission and your grand efforts remain a resounding success. Words fail me when I try to tell how extremely proud I am of all of you."

Hawkeye, Chingachook, Jean, Juliette and Redmond sat in sweet silence.

"I have received another correspondence." Continued M. "This one from the astrologer Guy Mannering; he claims that last night the stars twinkled with bright splendor, resplendently indicating salvation for the world and the cosmos. This is what we have achieved, we have saved the world. The warlock's destruction has prevented a dark shroud falling over all creation.

"As for the Joseph Curwen in Rhode Island, I will soon begin a correspondence campaign that will turn local authority against him, lest he develop the apocalyptic potential his counterpart here did."

"We can do something about him." Said Hawkeye. "Chingachook and I. We will be returning to America soon."

"That you could." Advised M. "But it will not be necessary. Providence Rhode Island may be within reach of your usual hunting grounds but he will recognise you, thus you would have to kill him; which will get you into trouble whether you win or lose. No it's best to leave him to my remote administrations."

A knock on the door preceded the entry of The Baron's valet, he was carrying a silver tray with a card on it. M took the card and bid that the visitor be shown in. A young man entered the room, he clearly had an eye for splendor since he gazed all over the room and its occupants with a cheery smile.

"Everyone." Said M. "I would like you to meet Langdon Towne, he will be immortalising us in a specially commissioned painting."

Langdon Towne had a New England accent and knew very little French. He did manage to express what a pleasure it would be to capture these subjects on canvas amidst such lush decor. An appropriate background within the room was agreed to and after a little furniture moving the space was set. The artist began to set up his equipment.

Hawkeye decided to have a chat with this fellow American. Langdon Towne revealed that he was from Maine and had fought in the French and Indian War, he was a member of Roger's Rangers, who went on secret raids into enemy territory. After the war, the artist tried his luck in London, he was doing well, but is now about to return to America and join a westward expedition to seek out the fabled Northwest Passage.

Chingachook had his reservations about having his image painted on a canvas, it was akin to the artist taking his soul. Hawkeye managed to quell the Mohican's concern, with a little help from The Great Spirit whose return to former status since the fall of Joseph Curwen had filled the Indian brave with positivity.

Juliette was thrilled with the idea of being captured on canvas, many men had tried to captivate or even capture her for their amusement, but this this type of captivity had great promotional value. She would've liked to have Tom the Cat with her during the pose but the English envoy Tristam Shandy had returned last night to collect the adorable feline he had forgetfully left behind.

Jean Baptiste Grenouille did not favor the idea of the French people seeing his face on a gallery wall. Baron Munchausen assured him that this portrait will not appear for public display, it will actually be confined to The League archives for the benefit of future Leagues of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Jean was happy with that knowledge and decided to hold up a perfume bottle during the pose to reveal his trade. Munchausen and the others had already praised him to the sky for not only his contribution to the League's effort but for devising and implementing the bizarre strategy that ensured its success.

Redmond Barry gave special praise to the perfumer.

"One thing Joseph Curwen told me Jean; was that to get him we would have to do something clever. Well, our musket shots and melee approaches were not that clever. It was you who came up with the required cleverness to destroy him. Luck was indeed with us to have you as part of this League that I stumbled into. You're really amazing."

The Irish rogue had considered taking advantage of this situation to desert the espionage business, but Munchausen had taken him aside and insisted that he report back to his superiors in Berlin.

"Redmond." Said M. "I am sending despatches to your boss explaining what happened to Fritz and Karl. Their bodies are already being carted back home for honorable burial. Other despatches will tell your superiors that you have been good, damn good. Your mission was a success; I have explained why Fernand Wagner's body was not available for authentication. Also they will be informed that you gave exceptional service to me, service worthy of the best Prussian soldiers.

"Do not sour all this achievement by deserting; if you do so now, my standing in the military will suffer and then there will be nothing I can do for you. When you return, your superiors will honor you. Maybe in some near future you can seize other opportunities to flee and seek out your fortune, with your luck that could even be soon; but to fly the coop now would be a mistake."

Redmond resigned himself to The Baron's will and with his approval donned a full dress Prussian uniform for the pose; he will hold a war musket with a shiny bayonet.

Baron Munchausen had received favorable reports from three hospitals. Alan Breck has recovered from his shock, but his physical injuries will require extensive healing and therapy before he can be active again; he will miss the painting but may serve in future missions. Berthold came out of his concussion but needs time to reorient his senses before he employs his great speed. Albrecht, Gustavus and Adolphus suffered only superficial burns, so with the right treatment they can, in time, serve The Baron again.

M's position in the painting will be in the foreground on the side, as if he is introducing The League to all who view the group portrait. He drew out his sabre and held it in proud military fashion.

Hawkeye put on his coonskin hat and stood bearing his own musket.

Chingachook held his musket in one hand, his tomahawk in the other. The war mace was strapped to the Mohican's back and only its handle could be seen.

Jean projected his usual blank look while holding out a decorative perfume bottle.

Juliette had spent hours beforehand in front of a mirror searching for the sexiest posture. When the time to pose came she widened her cleavage and adopted the chosen look.

Redmond stood to attention then with a word from M stood at ease in his chosen pose.

Langdon Towne had everything set up. The easel, the angle, the light and the poses were all good. The artist had finished preparing his many colored paints.

"We're ready to go." Said the artist. "Your poses are great; if you can maintain them for a while, this portrait will be splendid. Immortality here we come."

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen did not move or say a word. The artist smiled then, with great confidence, brought his paintbrush to the canvas.

THE END


	22. Chapter 22

Appendix

This novel has a cornucopia of borrowed characters from literature and film, virtually anyone who was created, by various writers, to live at that time.

The Beast of Gevaudan was an actual monster that preyed upon women and children in France during the 1760s. Although it was eventually hunted down and killed, its origins were never definitively discovered. It too has been fictionalized in the film Brotherhood of the Wolf, though my story gives a completely different account of its shape, origin and nature.

Some well known characters have appeared in this story without being named. They will be identified last. For some of these characters, I was tempted to put "Need you ask" at their entry.

Hawkeye - Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper

Chingachook - Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper

Jean Baptiste Grenouille - Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind

Juliette - Juliette by The Marquis de Sade

Redmond Barry - The Luck of Barry Lyndon by William Makepeace Thackery

* Baron Munchausen - The Adventures of Baron Munchausen by Rudolph Erich Raspe

Alan Breck - Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson

Joseph Curwen - The Case of Charles Dexter Ward by H P Lovecraft

Berthold - The Adventures of Baron Munchausen by Rudolf Erich Raspe

Albrecht - The Adventures of Baron Munchausen by Rudolf Erich Raspe

Gustavus - The Adventures of Baron Munchausen by Rudolf Erich Raspe

Adolphus - The Adventures of Baron Munchausen by Rudolf Erich Raspe

Captain Caproni - The Land that Time Forgot by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Candide - Candide by Voltaire

Fanfan la Tulipe - Fanfan la Tulipe (Film) by Christian Jaque

Fernand Wagner - Wagner the Wehrwolf by George W. Reynolds

Jean Villeneuve - The Patriot (Film) by Robert Rodat

Pamela Andrews B - Pamela by Samuel Richardson

Emile - Emile, or On Education by Jean Jacques Rousseau

Figaro - The Barber of Seville by Pierre Beaumarchais

Rip Van Winkle Rip Van Winkle by Washington Irving

Ezra Weedon The Case of Charles Dexter Ward by H P Lovecraft

* Cagliostro The Affair of the Necklace (Film) by John Sweet

Nell Bowen - Bedlam (Film) by Val Lewton

Olympia - The Sandman by E.T.A. Hoffman

* Werner von Kempelen The Chessplayer by Henry Dupuy-Mazuel

Thomas Danforth - The Crucible (Play) by Arthur Miller

Humphrey Clinker - The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker by Tobias Smollet

Viscomte de Valmont - Les Liasons Dangerouses by Chadlos de Laclos

Marquise de Meurtil - Les Liasons Dangerouses by Chadlos de Laclos

Guy Mannering - Guy Mannering by Walter Scott

Dirk Hatteraick - Guy Mannering by Walter Scott

The Marquis de St Evremonde - A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

The Marquis de Praille - Orphans of the Storm (Film) by D W Griffith

Squire Thornhill - The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith

James Durie - The Master of Ballantrae by Robert Louis Stevenson

Secundra Dass - The Master of Ballantrae by Robert Louis Stevenson

Francois Leroy - Fort Ti (Film) by Robert E Kent

Guy Loup - Sharpe's Battle by Bernard Cornwell

Thibault - The Wolf Leader by Alexandre Dumas pere

Cornelius Van Baerle - The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas pere

Yog Sothoth - The Dunwich Horror by H P Lovecraft

George Hastings - She Stoops to Conquer (Play) by Oliver Goldsmith

Jacques Forget Not - Orphans of the Storm (Film) by D W Griffith

Dr Benjamin Rathery - My Uncle Benjamin by Claude Tillier

Tristam Shandy - The Life and Opinions of Tristam Shandy, Gentlemen by Laurence Stern

Tom the Cat - The Life and Adventures of a Cat by Anonymous

Jack Absolute - The Rivals (Play) by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

Faust - Doctor Faustus (Play) by Christopher Marlowe

Lord John Grey - Lord John Book Series by Diana Gabaldon

Ivan Mironov - The Captain's Daughter by Alexander Pushkin

Langdon Towne - Northwest Passage by Kenneth Roberts

Unidentified Characters

Victim at start of novel

Little Red Riding Hood - Little Red Riding Hood by Charles Perrault

Swaggering pirate with eye shadow

Jack Sparrow - Pirates of the Caribbean (Film Series) by Ted Elliot Terry Rossio

Peg legged pirate leader

Long John Silver - Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

Pirate with straw in his sleeves and parson's collar

Dr Syn - Dr Syn: A Tale of Romney Marsh by Russell Thorndike

Indian pirates among the Calais rabble

Singh Brotherhood - Phantom Comics by Lee Falk

Shadowy purple figure attacking pirates. One of many multi-generational incarnations

The Phantom - Phantom Comics by Lee Falk

The Seven Virtues are an original creation as are Fritz and Karl. These I can do what I like with because there is no pre-established character life story to interfere with.

* These are actual historical figures whose lives have been fictionalized in the world of literature, thus making them fictitious creations to mingle with other unreal characters. The most prominent example of these is Baron Munchausen.


End file.
